


What We're Made Of

by Caedmon, RishiDiams



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eventual Smut, F/M, Human Doctor (Doctor Who), Mutual Pining, No Possible Return of the Doctor, Older Man/Younger Woman, Pete's World, Post-Episode AU: s02e13 Doomsday, Pregnancy, Rose lied at Bad Wolf Bay, Slooooow burn, Slow Burn, Swearing, Unplanned Pregnancy, no journey's end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-19 05:27:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 113
Words: 393,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11890998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caedmon/pseuds/Caedmon, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RishiDiams/pseuds/RishiDiams
Summary: Love, it's not an emotion. Love is a promise.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In the first week of April, 2017, RishiDiams popped into chat and said, “Hey. I have this idea.” She laid out a couple of plot points then said, “And that’s all I have.”
> 
> As she should have expected, Caedmon replied with, “Well that’s not all _I_ have!”
> 
> And lo, this fic was born. 
> 
> It started as a one-page document titled ‘ideas’. But every single day since that first night in April, we’ve worked on this story. Every day. It’s still not complete, but we can’t sit on it anymore. It’s time to release this tale into the world.
> 
> Standard disclaimer:  
> RishiDiams owns a sweet-ass Osgood cosplay. Caedmon owns a bitchin' picture of Peter Capaldi, autographed with her name and signed as Ian. (No kidding. That’s true. She does.) Neither of us, however, own Doctor Who or its accoutrements. That all goes to the BBC. We’re just playing with Auntie Beeb’s toys, here.
> 
> It’s worth noting that both RishiDiams and Caedmon each used to own a soul. This is no longer true. Ian Docherty now owns them, with visitation rights being granted to…well. You’ll see.
> 
> The authors would like to take a moment and _deeply_ thank Rose_Nebula for her unwavering support, the scads of suggestions she made that helped us tell a better story, and for the absolutely _amazing_ manip she did of Ian and Rose. Thank you, Rose_Nebula.
> 
> This story has been a labor of deep, intense love for both of us and we’re both extremely proud of it. We will be posting on Monday and Thursday mornings until the story is complete - which is going to be a while. But hopefully, that’s a good thing. If you love it even one tenth as much as we do, we’ll be thrilled.
> 
> xoxo,  
> Caed and RD

Prologue  
9 September 2011  
Week Two

“It’s dangerous.”

Rose leveled a glare at the man sitting on the other side of the desk. Pete Tyler. Middle-aged and balding, what hair he did have remaining was ginger and cropped close to his head. He might look like her father, but he wasn’t. Couldn’t ever be. He was a parallel copy, a gingerbread man, nothing more. No matter what her mum tried to say.

He’d made that perfectly clear the first time they’d met.

“Are you being serious right now? If you knew one-tenth of what I’ve done you’d understand how insulting that is.”

“Yes, things that you did _with the Doctor_ , who was capable of more than we can even begin to fathom. We’re only human. We have limits. And if anything happens to you, your mother will never forgive me.”

“If anything happens to me, it’s my choice. Seems to me I haven’t had a lot of those lately, I should at least be allowed to do what I can to get myself home.”

“This could be your home. You’ve got your mum here and Mickey… me.”

“My home is onboard the TARDIS with the Doctor. I wouldn’t give up on him for all of the money in the world, so I’m certainly not going to give up on him for yours.”

Pete flinched. “Your mother is not going to be pleased.”

“That’s her _choice_ , now isn’t it?”

He sighed and looked up at the ceiling.

“You start at the bottom. The very bottom. I’m not going to put you in the top levels and have people accusing me of nepotism.”

Rose barely refrained from cheering. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

“You take what the Doctor taught you and use it,” Pete continued. “Show them what you’re capable of and you’ll move up the ranks quickly. I’ll put Dr. Taylor back on the dimension hoppers, see if there’s anything he can do, and I’ll keep you apprised of his progress. But I don’t want you to get your hopes up too high. They stopped working the instant the Doctor sealed the breach.”

She smiled. It was the happiest she’d been since getting trapped a few days earlier. “The Doctor will be trying to come through from his side, too. I know it. Something will work.”

“We’ll see.” He stood up and offered her his hand, which she took gladly and shook. “Report for duty at 0800 Monday morning, _Agent_ Tyler.”

“Yes, sir.”

~*~O~*~

15 September 2011  
Week Three

Rose stormed through the halls of Torchwood. Pete hadn’t warned her that he was going to put her on Mickey’s team. She would have preferred anyone else’s team - even Jake’s. Whose team she was on wouldn’t have changed anything, of course, she was finally _doing_ something that could lead to her finding a way home, but a little warning would have been nice. 

She’d passed the required physical on Monday with flying colors - all of that running with the Doctor had come in handy - but Mickey was treating her like she was made of spun glass, keeping her on the indoor training courses and the firing range instead of out in the field with the team where she belonged. But no matter how much she wanted to, there was no way she was going to march into Pete’s office and demand that he do something about it. The bottom he’d said, so she would do her time in the trenches.

On top of that, Pete and her mum had decided they were going to get married. Except Pete had used Torchwood’s resources to resurrect - at least on paper - the Jackie that had gotten cyberized, so everyone was being told that she’d been in therapy the whole time and they were calling it a ‘vow renewal’.

She’d known it was coming, and really she couldn’t begrudge her mother happiness, but they’d only been in this universe a week and the ceremony was in ten days. Mickey was going to be there, as were a bunch of Pete’s friends - her mum had tried exactly once to ‘reconnect’ with some of the other Jackie’s friends before giving them up as posh bints - and they’d asked Rose to walk in the ceremony. She hadn’t had the heart to tell them no.

Hopefully, the Doctor would arrive before then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](http://imgur.com/Bgdzd4w)   
> 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When you're standing on your own  
> And you feel you've got nobody around you  
> Yeah you know I'll be the one who helps you from your knees  
> My heart’s on fire  
>  ~ Heart on Fire by Scars on 45

24 September 2011  
Week Four

 

Ian walked into the mansion without knocking and with no small measure of trepidation. He’d had mixed feelings when Pete and Jackie separated. On one hand, Pete had once loved her, but on the other, even on the best of days Jackie had only tolerated Ian. And then the Cybermen had attacked and he’d been a shoulder for his friend as Pete mourned the loss of his wife. The same wife Ian now watched as she directed a maid who was carrying a large pot of pink flowers out of the back door of the mansion.

He hadn’t believed it when Pete had called to invite him to a vow renewal. He’d thought his friend had finally cracked when he’d gone on about Jackie coming home and how things were better than they’d ever been between them. But there she was, alive and well.

She turned, caught sight of him, and he prepared himself for battle as she made her way across the foyer to him.

“Hello, Ian,” she said smiling brightly. “How are you, love?”

His eyes widened as his mind raced. There was nothing of the woman he knew in front of him save her face. 

“Jackie, how --”

“Ian!” Pete called from the top of the stairs. “I was wondering when you’d get here.”

Pete walked up to Jackie’s side as Ian gaped, unable to form words, and drew him into a hug, clapping him on the back. “Glad you could make it.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t have missed this.”

He watched when Pete released him and put his arm around Jackie who leaned into him for a second. Then she lifted up on her toes to place a kiss on his cheek and Pete’s arm tightened around her. 

“I’ll leave you two to talk.”

“You don’t have to go, Jacks.”

“There’s so much left to do,” she plucked at the lapel of Pete’s suit jacket, “and I still have to get dressed.”

“Alright.”

“Ian, good to see you again,” she said when Pete released her.

Then she hurried off in the direction of the kitchen and Pete slung his arm over Ian’s shoulder and guided him towards the study. One of the maids spotted him and crossed to the other side of the corridor, practically hugging the wall and scurrying past with her head down. Ian sighed. Word had gotten around amongst Pete’s staff that he was an unpleasant git. Which was true, he supposed, but the maids’ reactions seemed unwarranted, since he’d never said a cross word to any of them. He’d always suspected that fucking Jackie had egged on the rumors and speculation out of sheer spite, and had hoped they’d come around after she died. Apparently, that hope was gone now. 

"What the fuck is going on here?” he asked as soon as the door closed behind them.

Pete hummed as he moved to the credenza and the selection of liquors on it, but Ian could tell his friend’s awareness had shifted.

“Completely ignoring the fact that you told everyone your wife _died_ three years ago, Jackie hates my fucking guts. She’s never smiled at me like that before, not in nearly three decades.”

“She didn’t die.” Pete said as he handed him a tumbler of scotch. “She was, however, severely traumatized by nearly being cyberized. She’s been through a lot of therapy to get over it. It’s been an adjustment.”

He took a sip of the scotch. “I noticed. She actually seems to like you again.”

Pete gestured with his own glass. “She might like you, too, now. You never know.”

‘Love’, she’d called him, like they were old friends. He shuddered. “That’s fucking terrifying.”

They both laughed and Ian finally relaxed. “So, vow renewal?”

Pete shrugged. “It felt right. We’ve both changed.”

Ian would never have considered reconciling with Jenn once they’d gotten as close to divorce as Pete and Jackie had been, and he couldn’t imagine that surviving something like the Cybermen would have changed his mind. Pete had stood by him through his split with Jenn and the hellish months that followed until their divorce was finalized. The least he could do in return was be happy for his friend. Pete certainly looked more pleasant than he’d been in years.

He raised his glass. Pete smiled and tapped it with his own.

“Have a seat. We’ve got some time.”

They chatted for a while, mostly about their respective jobs, and it was nice seeing his friend comfortable and cheerful again. As soon as Pete drained his second glass he looked up at the clock. “I think it’s about time I made my way outside.”

Ian followed him out of the mansion and took his seat in one of the folding chairs that had been lined up in the garden. There were only a handful of people in attendance, but all of them were mutual friends or acquaintances. He nodded to a couple of them, raised his hand in acknowledgement once, but all told, he was ready to get this fucking show on the road so he could get the fuck out of here and away from Jackie. Pete had been steadfast in his claim that she had changed for the better and Ian had to admit, she _did_ seem more pleasant, but he didn’t trust that she wasn’t going to revert right back to her old ways as soon as she had Pete where she wanted him again. He’d rather not be around to witness the carnage. 

The music changed and everyone, including Ian, stood for the entrance of the bride. He turned around, as he was expected to do, and looked for Jackie but didn’t see her. Instead, there was a smiling young woman he didn’t recognize starting down the makeshift aisle. She carried a little nosegay of flowers and made eye contact with no one. Her hair was blonde and spilled to her shoulders, a single, sparkling barrette clipping her fringe back, leaving the rest of her hair to frame her frankly gorgeous face. The soft coral pink of the dress set off her peaches-and-cream skin perfectly, and he found himself craving to touch her. 

He shook himself from that fucking ridiculous thought and looked at the unknown woman with more of a clinical eye. She was radiantly beautiful, smiling and appeared happy...but something was off, Ian could sense it. He didn’t know this woman at all, had never spoken to nor seen her before, but he could tell she was faking it. Her smile was brittle and forced, her eyes didn’t sparkle. They would, though, if she were genuinely happy. He was convinced of it, and he wanted to see it. More - he wanted to cause it. 

It was probably a good thing she wasn’t at full wattage. He had a hunch that a legitimately bright smile and twinkling eye from her could bring a man to his fucking knees. 

Something told him if that were the case, it’d be more than worth it. 

She took her place off to the side, waiting patiently with the same smile until she and Pete were joined by Jackie, who was beaming like he’d never seen before. Ian paid virtually no attention to the bride and groom, though, choosing instead to focus on the young woman to the left of Jackie. As the ceremony wore on he watched her face change - very subtly, but he noticed. She looked to be fighting tears and her already-fragile smile cracked, becoming almost a parody of itself. It disturbed him to see her distressed this way; she should be happy all the time, he thought.

He wondered again what a genuine smile from her would look like, and decided he’d like to see that smile - directed at him.

When the ceremony ended, Pete and Jackie shared a kiss and then turned towards their guests, Pete’s arm slung low around Jackie’s waist.

“Jackie and I would like to thank you all for sharing this day with us. It’s not often life gives you a second chance, and I’m immensely grateful for this one.” He looked down at his wife and Ian swore he saw fucking rainbows spring out of their eyes before Pete looked back up. “There’s food and champagne inside. Please enjoy yourselves.”

The noise level rose as everyone stood and started to mingle. Ian took a step towards Pete but was stopped by another one of their friends. By the time he’d managed to extract himself, nearly everyone had moved indoors. 

He went inside and spotted Pete, surprisingly standing alone, and walked over to him. “I remember you being a lot more nervous the first time around. You got her fucking name wrong.”

Pete chuckled and looked around the room for Jackie. Ian followed his gaze to see her talking to the blonde woman from before.

“Who’s the bombshell talking to her? I know everyone else here. She a friend of Jackie’s?”

It was almost unnoticeable, the way Pete straightened. “Our daughter, actually. Rose.”

Ian inhaled sharply. “Daughter? Wait - Rose? Rose was the name of your yippy fucking shithead dog!”

“Well, that started out as a joke...”

“Some fucking joke. Where the fuck has she been? You’ve been my best friend for more than a quarter century, Pete. I’ve never even _heard_ of you having a fucking daughter.”

Pete looked uncomfortable, caught out. “We wanted to keep her sheltered from my rising fame. She deserved better than to be followed around by photographers all the time.”

“That’s fine, I understand that, but you could have kept her sheltered from the fucking paparazzi without hiding her from your best fucking friend!”

“I’m sorry, Ian, I truly am. I shouldn’t have kept you in the dark. I feel awful about it. If it’s any consolation, we kept her from everyone else, too.”

Ian was skeptical, but Pete seemed genuinely contrite, so he didn’t push the matter, and when he got lost in his thoughts Pete drifted away to talk to another guest. Now that he was looking for it, the girl looked exactly like a hybrid of her parents, so he didn’t doubt her lineage. But something about Pete’s story felt off to him. 

A few minutes later he saw her walk out onto the terrace, followed by Pete’s lapdog, Mickey. Looking around, Ian spotted Pete and Jackie canoodling, which was a sight he was never going to fucking get used to. Shaking his head, he moved closer to the terrace.

Voices floated in on the cool breeze, and Ian stopped for a second to gauge whether he should walk away, or whether it was safe to step outside and get a little air. 

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. It’s just...I wasn’t prepared for this. It’s a bit much, you know?”

“I can understand that, Rose, but I’m worried that -”

“There’s no ‘but’ to it, Micks, and no reason to be worried. I’m fine. You don’t need to be following me around like a really loud and obnoxious shadow.”

“I just want to make sure you’re okay. Your mum and I, we’re all you’ve got.”

“I’m fine, Mickey. I’ll be better if I don’t feel like I have to justify every action or reaction to you. Even my mother isn’t this overbearing.”

“Babe --”

“Don’t call me ‘babe’. Those days are long past.”

Wait. That gorgeous woman had dated _Mickey_? The idiot? Ian cringed.

“Can I just --”

“You can go away, is what you can do. Stop pestering me.”

“I’m not pestering you!”

“You are. Go away. I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

Ian didn’t hear anything else, but a few seconds later Mickey came striding through the glass doors that led to the terrace, glaring at Ian as he passed, heading upstairs. Ian smirked. He’d never liked the boy. Seemed Rose didn’t much care for him right now, either. He waited a few seconds more and then stepped through the doors. She was leaning against the rail looking out over the garden. He could only see her profile, but once again he was struck by how beautiful she was.

“Spat with the boyfriend?” 

She started and then straightened, turning to face him. There was a boldness in her eyes as she smoothed her hands down the skirt of her dress, a gesture that somehow managed to be self-assured rather than nervous. She wasn’t afraid of him, an interloper and an eavesdropper, and Ian was intrigued. "He's not my boyfriend."

"Seems to think he is."

"Yeah, he does that. Best to just ignore him.” She offered him her hand and he took it, noting how well it fit in his own. “I'm Rose Tyler."

"I’ve heard. Ian Docherty. Friend of your father's."

A muscle under her eye twitched, but she didn’t say anything.

“You know, I've known Pete longer than you've been alive.”

“Oh yeah?” She sounded disinterested and he immediately regretted drawing attention to their relative ages.

“Yeah, and I’m a little fucking insulted I haven’t met you before now.”

~*~O~*~

Rose recoiled. She’d first noticed the man standing before her talking to Pete not long after the ceremony had finished, had even recognized him as the ‘Ian’ Pete had shown them a picture of when he warned them his best friend would be the hardest person to convince. But Pete hadn’t said anything about a temper. Was he really upset? Or --

He smiled somewhat crookedly, stopping her thoughts from spiraling any further and she relaxed a bit.

“S’that so?”

“Too fucking right.” He smiled again and she couldn’t help but return it, it was so ridiculous. “So where have they been hiding you?”

“Boarding school, mostly, but I spent the last few years traveling.”

“Visit anywhere interesting?”

“Oh,” she laughed, “you have no idea.”

Ian raised an eyebrow and one corner of his mouth, and Rose took a moment to look him over discreetly. He was tall, a good deal taller than herself, and lean, with prematurely greying hair that somehow looked right on him. His best feature, she thought, were his eyes. They were blue, like her first Doctor’s, but this man’s eyes were so light a blue they were almost grey. She suspected that the shade may change depending on what he was wearing, perhaps his mood. All of Pete’s friends seemed to be rich, and Ian didn’t look like an exception. He was wearing a suit, like every other man in attendance, and it fit him extremely well. Rose felt sure that it had been professionally tailored. On his wrist was a watch that surely would have gotten him stabbed on the estates, and he wore no other jewelry. She kicked herself a little for looking at his left ring finger. 

His Scottish brogue was light and pleasant to the ear. His face was angled, with sharp features, but she found him quite handsome. 

From inside the mansion came the first few notes of the song her mum and Pete had chosen for their dance and she turned to see them moving towards the center of the room hand in hand. Her throat tightened at the smile on her mum’s face.

“Twenty-eight fucking years and I’ve never seen them like this before,” Ian said from behind her with a touch of awe in his voice. 

“It’s taking some getting used to, that’s for sure.”

Another couple started dancing and Rose looked away - only to see Ian waiting with his hand outstretched.

“Want to join them?”

Rose blinked hard to banish the image of the Doctor offering her his hand in just that way. She’d managed to survive the whole day so far without tears, she wasn’t going to cry because someone asked her to dance.

There was something in Ian’s demeanor that belied the casual offer, but she couldn’t put her finger on what it was.

She smiled kindly. “No. Thank you, but no.”

He visibly deflated a bit, and Rose felt guilty for turning him down. The guilt didn’t make her any more ready to dance, though. She felt the need to explain herself.

“It’s all just -”

“A bit much?” he volunteered, putting his rejected hand in his pocket.

“Yeah. Seems I have an entirely new life in front of me. I wasn’t prepared for it, but I have no choice but to make the best. Everything just happened so fast, you know?”

Ian was looking at her with something in his eyes, an emotion she couldn’t quite place. But she _did_ recognize the empathy.

“Another time, then?”

Rose smiled at him. “Of course. Sometime when I don’t feel like my head is spinning.”

“I’m going to take you up on that, Miss Tyler.”

“Rose, please. And yes, I hope you do.”

The two of them made conversation for a little while longer, pausing every now and then when a friend of Pete’s would come to speak to Ian. He always introduced her as Pete and Jackie’s daughter, and Rose had to repeat her new life history each time. But Ian didn’t leave her side the rest of the evening, even being rude to a couple of people who lingered longer than he seemed to like, and he snarked at Mickey almost immediately when he came back downstairs to talk. Rose had to bite her lip to keep from smiling at his antics. 

He was gruff, sure, and he swore fluently, not caring about the propriety of his language. But there was something charming about him, something that made her enjoy his company. She wouldn’t mind seeing him at the parties Pete threw for however long she was stuck here. Maybe, if she was here long enough, she’d eventually hold to her promise and dance. 

It was with a jolt that she realized that she had barely thought of the Doctor since he’d started talking to her. She had no idea how to feel about that.


	3. Chapter 3

1 October 2011  
Week Five

_“Take me back! Take me back!”_

Rose awoke with a start and looked around the room as the morning sun began to peek through the window. The heavy wood wardrobe opposite her bed was the first thing to separate itself from the shadows. Because of the placement of the small sitting area in relation to the window, the brocade chairs were second even though they were closer. The room Pete had offered her in his mansion was gorgeous, a far cry from her bedroom on the estate, and uncomfortably not _her_.

Three weeks since her fall. For three weeks, she’d woken up in a universe without the Doctor in it, and her dreams had been the same nearly every night, forcing her to relive the worst moments of her life over and over.

The fall sunlight reached the footboard, and she didn’t have to look at the clock on the nightstand to know that meant it was half six. Cursing east-facing bedrooms, she dragged herself from under the covers.

She reached for the dressing gown that lay over the foot of the bed and pulled it around herself to keep out the early fall chill. Some coffee would be nice, she thought, but she wasn’t quite comfortable wandering Pete’s house when no one else was around. Her mum and Pete had been gone for almost a week, and Rose still didn’t feel right just helping herself to whatever she found in the kitchen. She supposed she ought to get used to it. It didn’t make sense for her to rent a flat when she was going to be leaving soon, so she was going to be staying with her mum at Pete’s until either the Doctor came back or there was a breakthrough at Torchwood.

She’d spent the majority of the last three weeks there, at work, either training or pushing the folks in R&D to work harder and faster on the dimension project. Mickey had been driving her mad, treating her like he didn’t know what she was capable of - like she’d only gotten the job because of Pete - then sending her texts and coming to the mansion to check on her in the evenings. And with her mother hovering, too… It was suffocating, and she’d been forced to put up a brave front for their sakes. As a result, nearly all the time she’d been alone she’d been crying, trying to purge herself of the grief that threatened to overwhelm her. 

Now she was sick of it. The Doctor wasn’t here, true, but he was coming and if he didn’t, she’d get to him somehow. In the meantime, she knew he’d be viewing this as an adventure. So that’s how she tried to look at it. What should she do? She settled into one of the chairs in the sitting area to puzzle it out a bit. There was no one here she knew, save Mickey, but she didn’t want to do anything that would make him think that she required quite that much of his attention. The idea of spending the day with him was quickly discarded. She was on her own. 

Her stomach rumbled unpleasantly, but that had become a familiar sensation over the last couple of weeks. She assumed it was the food here in this universe, some of which tasted funny, but what little she was eating kept disagreeing with her. If she were honest, there was probably a healthy bit of anxiety contributing that, as well. She’d been tired lately, too, and she attributed that to the stress also. If the Doctor were here, he could scan her with the screwdriver - _no._ She couldn’t allow herself to think about the Doctor. He’d come when he could, she had no doubt of that. She had to cling to that for her own sanity.

The tears started flowing anyway, and she allowed herself a moment to grieve, to curse whatever fates had landed her here. This wasn’t the way her life was supposed to go. She was supposed to travel the cosmos forever with the man she loved, not be stranded in a different universe with only her mum and ex-boyfriend for company and no way back. It was so unfair! She knew she wasn’t a saint, she’d never claim to be, but she couldn’t think of any sin she’d committed that could have earned her a banishment like this. 

After a few minutes of feeling sorry for herself, Rose wiped her cheeks, straightened her shoulders and raised her head. That was quite enough of that. She was Rose Tyler and she’d faced scarier situations than this. She’d helped to topple maniacal dictators, she’d stood up to alien kings, and she’d destroyed an entire dalek fleet with a wave of her hand. Being a stranger in a strange land was something that she was good at - she’d spent two years doing just that while traveling with the Doctor. This was almost exactly the same. She was in a strange world where virtually no one knew her - the only difference was that the Doctor wasn’t here (yet) and she couldn't leave (yet). 

Refusing to allow herself to dissolve into tears again, she got up and started pacing the room. What would the Doctor do if he were forced to adjust to life on a foreign planet? First, he’d explore all the options about getting back to the TARDIS. She’d done that. Dr. Taylor hadn’t made any progress with the dimension hoppers, but she wasn’t about to give up hope yet. If they’d worked once, they could do so again. 

When she and the Doctor been stranded on Krop Tor, thinking they were going have to go linear for the foreseeable future, the Doctor had pelted the crew of the ship with questions, trying to learn as much as he could. Three weeks after the devil predicted that the valiant child would die in battle, Rose had fallen through the void into the world she was now in and she was once again a stranger in a strange land. 

Rose nodded to herself. Right. The first thing she needed to do - no matter how long she was going to stay - was to gather as much information about this world as possible. Surely the only differences weren’t zeppelins and having a President instead of a Prime Minister. There must be more. She needed to find out the differences, or she may blow their cover. 

Research. She needed to do research. 

Resolved now, Rose got to her feet and flicked on the telly, changing the channel until she found the news. The Prime Min- the _President_ was attending a summit in Canada. The Canadian flag was different in this world, she noted, with a golden maple leaf in the middle. That was good to know.

Still listening to the news, she went to the walk-in closet, shoving away the memories of the TARDIS’ wardrobe room, and looked around. She didn’t have much in the way of clothes here, just two pair of jeans, the black trousers she’d arrived in, and a couple of blouses. She knew this planet was a couple of degrees warmer than her home planet, but she wasn’t sure what that meant, exactly. Did this planet even _have_ a winter?

Rose picked up her mobile and texted her mother.

~Rose: _sorry to bother, but I was going to get some winter clothes. Could you ask Pete if it gets cold here or whatever?_

While she waited for her mum to text her back, she reached for a pair of denims and a blouse, going out into the bedroom to put them on. 

She bent to put on her jeans and suddenly, without warning, she had to run to the loo, barely making it to the toilet before throwing up the remains of her dinner last night. Blindly, she reached for the handle and flushed the toilet, making a move to get up, and she was hit with another wave of nausea. 

After she’d thrown up three times she collapsed in a heap against the wall, shaking a little. That was _weird._ She never got sick. What the hell was this about? It must be the food in Pete’s World. It had to be.

Getting to her feet shakily, she went to the sink, rinsed her mouth out and brushed her teeth. By the time she was finished, she felt much better. Shrugging the whole thing off as an anomaly, she went back to getting dressed. 

Her mobile dinged, and she grabbed it.

~Mum: _he says it gets very cold and snowy in London in the winter, so go buy warm things._  
~Rose: _Do you want me to buy anything for you?_  
~Mum: _No, love, you go have fun. We’ll be home tomorrow_

Right. She needed to buy warm clothes. Maybe she’d hit a bookstore somewhere along the way and pick up a couple of history or contemporary culture books. Magazines. Magazines would probably be very helpful. 

And she _definitely_ needed some coffee. 

With a plan in place, Rose felt more capable. More like herself. She put on her makeup and styled her hair a little, then left the mansion, heading into town.

~*~O~*~

Ian stepped up to the counter with his purchases, glancing at his watch when he sat them down. The bookstore had been calling him for weeks, reminding him about the book he’d ordered and his need to come get it. Work had been crazy - it was the busy season - so he’d put it off and put it off until the voicemails that were being left sounded thoroughly exasperated and they threatened to put his order back.

He looked up and his breath caught. He had no idea when she’d arrived, but there she was, rounding a bookshelf, her hand trailing along the wood. Rose Tyler.

“Sir?”

He started and turned back to the cashier, opening his wallet and handing over a few bills then gesturing impatiently as his change was counted out, once again looking in the direction she’d gone. A moment later, bag in hand, he went in search of her.

She was standing in fiction when he found her, reading the back cover of a novel. He stopped and leaned against the corner of the bookshelf, a good five feet away from her. She was wearing a pink top - a color he was quickly associating with her - and a pair of very flattering denims. He had to force himself to take a metaphoric step back when he realized that he was admiring the way the denims hugged her body. She was Pete’s daughter, for Christ’s sake, half his fucking age; he shouldn’t be ogling her.

Movement from the other end of the bookshelf alerted him to the fact that he wasn’t the only one. A boy, probably Rose’s age from the look of him, was peering over the top of a book, his eyes raking over every inch of her. Ian’s blood boiled.

“In a startling twist,” he said, “that book fucking sucks but the movie was phenomenal.”

Rose jumped and pressed her hand to her chest. She glanced over at him, an exasperated grin on her face, and then placed the book back on the shelf. He took her momentary distraction to inform the boy with a two-fingered salute that he should take a hike.

“That’s a shame,” Rose said when she walked up to him, “it looked good. Hello, Ian.”

“Fucking tragic,” he agreed with a smile. “Hello, Rose. Looking for anything in particular?”

“Just browsing, hoping something will catch my eye.” She nudged his bag. “What about you?”

“Biography on Charles I.”

She poked it again and the clear outline of two rectangular shapes, one smaller than the other, became visible. “A little oddly shaped for a biography.”

“And maybe the latest Jack Nolan,” he admitted. He’d had a copy, but fucking Fergus had nicked it when he stayed at Ian’s last weekend.

“Jack Nolan?”

He gaped at her. “How do you not know Jack Nolan? He is only the best fictional detective of our fucking lifetime.”

“I haven't had much time for reading lately.”

“Well, that won't do.” He looked up at the shelves to orient himself. “Follow me.”

He stepped across the aisle and walked up to the small display of Jack Nolan books. 

“They don't have them all in stock right now,” he said as he scanned them quickly and plucked the first book in the series off the shelf, “but this will get you started.”

Rose took it from him and a lock of hair fell into her face when she looked down to read the cover. His eyes followed the path of her fingers across her cheek and over her ear when she brushed it back absently. 

She was graceful, effortlessly beautiful, and completely without artifice. And unlike so many of his and Pete’s friends whose children couldn’t go five minutes without making some reference to their trust fund or some ridiculously expensive frippery they’d purchased, Rose had none of that air about her. He’d spent the better part of an hour with her at her parents’ vow renewal and not once had she said or done something that put her even close to that category. In fact, she’d spoken briefly about helping people in some war-torn area while she’d traveled, and not just showing up for a quick media opportunity or condescending to people she felt owed her for gracing them with her presence, but actually working to pull survivors from wreckage and bandaging wounds, comforting children until their parents could be located.

Rose was special. 

“This looks good,” she said when she looked up again, and there was something different in her eyes. They were lighter, as though some weight, however slight, had been lifted.

He’d yet to see her properly smile, though, a lack he was beginning to feel deep in his bones despite being more convinced than ever that a true smile from her would knock him on his arse. He wanted to take whatever was bothering her and wipe it the fuck away, because Rose Tyler deserved to smile. _No_ , he reminded himself firmly, he was _not_ a person who could share her burdens.

“Would I steer you wrong?” 

“We’ll see. I haven’t read it yet.”

He gasped dramatically. “You wound me, Miss Tyler.”

She grinned and bumped him with her shoulder and he couldn’t help but smile down at her. When he looked back up, however, his smile quickly faded. The boy was back, book no longer hiding his face, which now bore an _intent_ Ian was having none of. He turned, pleased beyond reason when Rose moved with him, and started walking towards the front of the store.

“Was there anything else you wanted to get?”

“I’d like to look over the magazines, maybe grab a couple.”

He spotted the little fucker that had been watching Rose over his shoulder a couple of yards away and glared in his direction, putting as much menace in his gaze as he could muster.

“Ian? Are you alright?”

He snapped back to attention, shaking off the boy, and smiled at Rose. “Perfectly fine. Thought I saw someone I knew.”

She squinted at him a little, her mouth curved into a half smile. “Must have been someone you’re not particularly fond of.”

“No. He’s a fucking twat.”

Rose giggled, and he was delighted. He’d made her laugh. _He_ had made _her_ laugh! 

Trying to be casual, he smiled and said, “I believe you wanted to look at magazines?”

“I do, yes.”

Ignoring the jittery feeling he felt, he jumped. “If you don’t mind, I could browse with you, then perhaps we could step over to the coffee shop next door? Their coffee is the fucking best in town, in my humble opinion, and their baked goods are almost as good.”

She looked at him like she was sizing him up, then nodded with a smile. “Yeah, alright,” she agreed. 

The two of them turned towards the racks of magazines at the front of the store, and he was gratified to see the boy scowling. He just barely resisted the urge to repeat the two fingered gesture over his shoulder but put his hand up to the small of Rose’s back to guide her, just to rub it in. 

Ian pretended to be absorbed in some periodical he couldn’t give less of a fuck about while Rose browsed. He was surprised by the number of magazines she gathered, and the variety. There were a couple of society magazines, which he supposed made sense, since she’d be part of that social circle now that she’d returned from her travels. She picked up a political magazine, which surprised him. He hadn’t pegged her as the type to be interested in such goings on. But he was _really_ surprised (and delighted) when she picked up an astronomy magazine. 

“No red tops?” he asked before his brain could move in to stop his mouth.

She glanced over at him. “I hadn’t planned on it, no. Why?”

Something inside told him it was a bad idea, but he said, “I thought that was standard reading for young women your age.”

“You underestimate me, Ian. There is very little about me that is like other girls my age.”

“Good,” he blurted.

She was looking at him with that same look, like she was trying to figure him out, and he prayed she wouldn’t find him wanting even as he tried not to flinch.

He must have passed muster because after a moment, she said, “I’m in the mood for a danish, and I think I have enough to keep me busy for a while.” She indicated the stack of books and magazines in her arm. It looked heavy, and he kicked himself for not offering sooner.

“Here, let me help you carry that.” 

“I’m alright. Just going over to the checkout, right?”

“Are you sure?”

She started towards the counter with the register and he followed. “There you go, underestimating me again. I think you’ll find that I’m not fragile, either.” 

“Noted,” he said. “But you have to acknowledge that it was the gentlemanly thing to do. If I hadn’t, I’d have been being fucking rude.”

“That’s true,” she said, laying her books on the counter and throwing a distracted smile to the shopgirl. 

Rose was unfailingly polite to the shopgirl, something else that surprised him. Most young women of her social standing didn’t bother with being polite to the people that served them. She was right - he _had_ underestimated her. It seemed she defied everything he’d come to believe about heiresses. It only served to make her that much more appealing in his eyes. 

His brain railed at him. _Stop it! You absolutely can_ not _be attracted to this woman!_

He suspected it was too late for that. If he was being honest, he’d been attracted to her from the moment she stepped into the aisle at her parent’s vow renewal. 

The shopgirl handed over a bag with Rose’s books, and she turned to face him. “Where is this coffee shop? I’m famished.”

Ian gestured towards the door and, unable to help himself, turned and smirked at the little fucker that had been ogling Rose before they stepped out onto the pavement.


	4. Chapter 4

7 October 2011  
Week Six

“I saw you speaking with Ian when he came in,” Jackie said, approaching Rose where she stood in the parlor. “Nice bloke, isn’t he?”

Rose shrugged. “Seems to be. Swears a lot, though.”

Her mother chuckled. “You’ve been known to swear a time or two yourself.”

“Suppose that’s true.” Rose glanced over to where Ian stood with Pete. “What does he do?”

Her mum’s expression pinched. Then, hesitantly, “He’s a doctor.”

It took her only a second to figure out that she was being watched the same way people watched bombs tick.

“It’s fine, Mum.” She smiled as convincingly as she could. “People are doctors, sick people are treated by doctors. You don’t have to avoid the word.”

“You’re being so brave, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you.”

Rose was grateful that her mother didn’t seem to be picking up on the fact that it was all an act and she was falling apart inside. She didn’t feel even the tiniest bit brave, she felt destroyed. Tears pricked the backs of her eyes and she sniffed, willing them away. “Thanks. I’m just doing what I have to do. This is my life now, right?” _Until I get the hoppers working._

“It’s not all bad,” Jackie said, rubbing her hand up and down Rose’s arm soothingly. “I know you miss him, sweetheart. I know what you’re feeling.”

_No, you couldn’t possibly,_ she thought, but didn’t say so aloud. She just nodded to her mother, wanting the conversation to be over.

One of the maids announced dinner (Rose would never get used to having maids, no matter how long she lived here), and everyone filed into the formal dining room. There were ten place settings, and Rose went to the right side of the table between two as-yet-unclaimed seats. She looked around the room, wondering if she should be standing or sitting. Etiquette wasn’t something one usually learned on the estates. 

“May I?” came a soft Scottish brogue from behind her, and Rose turned to find Ian standing there, gesturing to the chair in front of her. 

She smiled, genuinely pleased that he’d be sitting next to her, and nodded just as she stepped out of the way, hoping she was doing the right thing. Ian pulled her chair out and waited for her to have a seat, then scooted her chair forward and took the seat to her right. Rose watched everyone else, then took her folded linen napkin from her plate and laid it in her lap. 

“You seem nervous,” he remarked in a quiet voice. 

“I am, a bit,” she confessed in an equally low voice. “I met most of these people at the wed- the vow renewal,” she said, hoping she’d caught herself in time. “But I don’t remember who’s who and don’t really know any of them.”

“You know me.”

“Yes, I do know you a bit.” She smiled at him and he gave her a soft smile in return. “I’m glad you’re sitting with me.”

“You are?” he asked, sounding surprised. 

“I am.” Then she leaned closer to him. “I’ve a feeling that some of the others here might be aliens from the planet Boring.”

Ian laughed, a full, throaty sound, and Rose felt her tongue go between her teeth in amusement, even as she caught her mother’s curious gaze. It struck her that she hadn’t smiled - properly smiled - in more than a month, and it felt good to do so. She felt more like herself. 

“They’re not aliens,” Ian confided, leaning towards her. “At least not that I know of. But they are a fucking odd lot.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

He inclined his head towards a couple across the table from Rose. “That’s John Stockman and his wife, Michelle. John owns a company that processes foods then cans them. You’ll want to beware - I hear there aren’t many cats in the vicinity of the factory.”

Rose just barely covered her mouth in time to keep from laughing loudly and drawing attention back to her and Ian. Instead, she giggled behind her hand until she felt tears in her eyes. When was the last time she’d laughed ‘til she cried? She honestly couldn’t remember. 

Once she had composed herself and had reached that point of the occasional, easily stifled giggle, she turned back to Ian. “You’re joking.”

“I am. But it fucking worked, didn’t it? You seem much less anxious now.”

It was with some surprise that she noticed he was right. 

“Go on, then,” she said. “Tell me more about your friends here.”

He looked pensive for a moment, then nodded his head towards a tall man in a tweed jacket. “That man right there, standing with the tall redhead, he’s David Ripley. Fucking obsessed with horses, David is. Talks about them all the goddamn time.”

“Really?”

“Mhm,” Ian said. “I’ve got a tenner says he tells us all about his current breeding program before the salad course is through.”

Rose grinned at him and his lopsided smile. “You’re on.”

Ian extended his hand and Rose shook it, still smiling. 

Before Ian could tell her about the third couple making their way into the dining room, everyone else took their seats, and dinner began. 

Small, quiet conversations popped up around the table between dinner partners, and Rose found herself talking to Ian most of the time. Eventually, the conversation started to involve the entire table, with various people chiming in. The salad was served and Rose bit back a grin, thinking of the bet she’d made with Ian. 

She was almost through with her salad and gloating silently to herself when the tall man in the tweed jacket said, “Say, Pete, I know you’ve never been into horses much, but I’ve got a pair I’ll be breeding this month, you may be interested.”

Rose’s eyes went wide and she turned her head to look at Ian who was smirking. Her stomach went all wobbly in the best possible way and she blushed to the roots of her hair. Bloody hell, he was devastatingly handsome when he did that.

~*~O~*~

Rose managed to get through dinner without any major faux pas. The worst of it was when she chose the wrong fork, a mistake she didn’t realize until she looked around the table to see everyone else using a smaller fork. She’d darted her eyes to Ian, intending to ask which fork she was meant to be using, when she’d noticed he was using the same large fork as her. She’d stared at him eating, her eyes wide, wondering if he’d chosen the wrong fork intentionally to spare her embarrassment. When he’d caught her looking at him, he’d given her a tiny wink then went back to his meal. Rose did the same, flushing again.

Now the three Tylers and the seven dinner guests had retired to one of the parlors to sip port and sample petit fours. Rose had only ever had petit fours at a tea party one time when she was a little girl, but these were much better than she remembered. She didn’t dare eat more than two, though, not wanting to be impolite. If there were any left over, she may just have to get over her shyness and sneak down to the kitchen later to eat her fill. 

Several people engaged Rose in conversation, but none were even remotely interesting. It all seemed very...sanitary. Forced. Plastic. It made Rose distinctly uncomfortable and added to her feeling of being an outsider. 

She was chatting with David Ripley who, as Ian had predicted, was dominating the conversation with talk about horses, his stables, and breeding stock. Rose could almost feel her eyes glazing over from sheer boredom when she heard Ian.

“David! You’re not boring the fuck out of Rose, are you?” 

“Of course not!” David insisted, sounding a bit insulted. “We were just chatting.”

“Anything interesting?” Ian asked with raised brows. 

David’s eyes were trained on Ian, so when Ian glanced over at her, she shook her head a little to answer his question. Ian smirked again, and her belly flip-flopped.

“Of course! Terribly interesting. I was explaining the process of weeding through breeding stock to make the most advantageous matches.”

“That sounds positively fucking titillating,” Ian said, and even though Rose had only ever had a handful of conversations with the man, she could still detect the sarcasm. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from cracking up. “I just came over to tell you, though, I overheard Jackie mention something about horses. Sounded like she might be interested in acquiring one, and I thought you may be wanting to get your fingers in that pie.”

David looked up and over to Jackie, who was talking with David’s wife. “You’re right,” David said, distracted, then he turned back to Rose. “If you’ll excuse me, Rose. Ian.”

“Of course,” Rose said, but David was already moving across the room. She turned to Ian, her eyes twinkling. “You just threw my mother under the bus.”

“Not one fucking bit sorry about it, either. She’s hated me the entire time she’s known me, until the past couple of weeks.”

“She’ll hate you again if you keep pulling stunts like that.”

Ian shrugged. “Probably. But it got you away from David, didn’t it? You looked miserable.”

She laughed a little. “I was miserable. Thank you for that.”

He raised an eyebrow and gave her half smile. “Does this mean I’m forgiven for throwing your mother under the fucking bus, as you put it?”

“ _I_ forgive you,” she said with a bright smile. “Not so sure about Mum, though.”

“Ah, she’ll get over it eventually,” he said with a dismissive wave of the hand. “I’m entirely too fucking charming for her to stay mad at.”

Rose burst into giggles, drawing the attention of several people nearby, including her mother, whose face was unreadable. She flushed and bit her lip to keep the mirth in. 

“Thank you for rescuing me. I was running through ideas for excuses.”

“What did you come up with?”

“Nothing plausible,” she grinned. “That’s why I was still standing here.”

Ian laughed, and she rather liked him smiling. “Really, though, I wouldn’t have interrupted the two of you except that you did look terribly uncomfortable. Figured it was the least I could do, if he was bothering you.”

“He wasn’t _bothering_ me, really, but I was bored out of my skull. He seems to be very nice. Just...preoccupied.”

“Too fucking true.”

They chatted with each other for a while, and Rose found herself growing more and more comfortable with Ian. Just as he had at the wedding, he stayed with her for the rest of the evening, even when others drifted over to chat. Him being there was a godsend - he was able to take control of the conversations when she faltered, for which Rose was intensely grateful.

Eventually the Carters, the Ripleys, and the Stockmans left for the evening, leaving only Ian with the Tylers. When Ian later announced that he should probably be going, Rose excused herself quickly and dashed up the stairs to her room. She grabbed what she needed and darted back down the stairs and towards the front door. 

“Ian!” she called as he walked up to the door, glad to see he hadn’t left while she’d been upstairs. He stopped and waited for her to catch up to him. When she did, she presented a ten pound note with a flourish. “Your winnings, sir.”

He smirked and she felt the now familiar twisting of her insides - really, his attractiveness went up by an order of magnitude when he did that. 

“How very honorable of you, Miss Tyler. But I was thinking, I’ve got an extra ticket to the theatre next weekend that’s just going to go to waste. You’d be doing me a huge favor by coming along. It would more than cover this.” He flicked the edge of the bill with his finger.

“The theatre?”

“Would that be okay?”

She bit her lip. “Can I think about it?”

“Of course.”

Once he’d left, Rose turned around to see her mum standing at the door to the lounge.

“What was that all about?” she asked as Rose walked over to join her.

“Nothing, mostly. He wants to take me to the theatre.”

“Oh?”

One single syllable and Rose knew exactly what her mother was thinking. She rolled her eyes. “You know, the last time I brought home an older man, you did your nut. I’m surprised you’re not trying to talk me out of it.” 

“Last time you didn’t bring home an ‘older man’, you brought home an alien 900 years older than you!”

“Yes, I suppose ‘old enough to be my father’ looks pretty good by comparison,” she retorted. “But it’s not like that. We’ve chatted. He could be a friend.” 

“Then let him be a friend. You should go, Rose. You need people to talk to and do things with besides me and Mickey, and Ian seems like a decent bloke. Your dad was always a good judge of character, and Ian is one of his most trusted friends. It's not healthy to be holed up in this house all the time, pining for the Doctor.”

“I’m not _pining_.”

“Maybe. But you’re not living either. Think about what the Doctor would want for you.” She paused a moment to let that sink in. “I’ll get Ian’s number from Pete so you can ring him.”

~*~O~*~

12 October 2011

Ian was in a bad mood. He’d been irritable since he left the Tylers’ Friday night, but with every day that passed without Rose ringing him, his mood had only darkened.

He’d been an idiot. A complete fucking idiot. She was twenty-four years old - _much_ too young for him. She probably saw him as some lecherous old man, not as a potential romantic partner. His chances were likely completely ruined now. He genuinely enjoyed her company, he found her intriguing and clever, something that was like uncovering a ten-carat diamond in their particular social circle. But damned if he hadn’t gone and ruined everything by asking her on a fucking date.

A knock came at his office door, and he barked, “Come in.”

The door swung open a foot or so and a petite, wide-eyed brunette dipped her head around the door almost as if she were using it as a shield. Probably not the worst idea, he conceded to himself. Apparently sensing no danger, she opened the door the rest of the way and came inside. 

She was smiling, and it annoyed Ian even more. “What?”

“Nothing,” Clara said. “Just checking on you.”

“I’m fucking fine. There’s no reason you should feel compelled to fucking check on me.”

“It’s just that you’ve been out of sorts for the last few days. We’re all used to you being an absolute arse, but you seem more grumpy than usual lately.”

Leave it to Clara to notice something being off. She was entirely too perceptive sometimes.

“In fact,” she went on, crossing her arms and leaning back against the wall. “You’ve gotten even more stroppy with every passing day.”

“There’s nothing fucking wrong.”

Clara put her hands up, shrugging her shoulders at the same time. “Alright, alright, if you insist. I was just thinking you might like an ear to bend.”

“I appreciate the kind offer. Now don’t you have a fucking job to do?”

She pushed off of the door, grinning at him. “Your two o’clock cancelled, so you have a free few minutes.”

“Fucking splendid. Go away, Clara.” 

She grinned at him, not taking any offense, and left, closing the door behind her. Ian let out a long breath and leaned his head back against the back of the leather chair he sat in. 

He really shouldn’t be attracted to Rose, and frankly, he didn’t entirely understand why he was. Blondes had never been his type, and he’d never dated a much-younger woman, either, always staying within a few of years of his own age. Even Joan was only five years younger than him. This was a twenty-one-year gap, and should have automatically rendered her off-limits for him - and that wasn’t even considering that she was his best friend’s daughter. He felt almost certain that Pete would _not_ approve. 

Maybe that was why she hadn’t called. Would Pete have discouraged her? More than likely he would have. That made sense, he supposed. 

Still, he couldn’t fucking help it. Rose Tyler seemed absolutely perfect: she was intelligent, poised, beautiful, warm, and funny. And he was absolutely, powerfully attracted to her. He wanted her. 

The afternoon passed in a blur, none of his patients presenting anything challenging, and Ian didn’t check his mobile until he finished with his last office patient at four and went back to his desk for a few minutes before he left to make rounds. He pulled his mobile out just as he bent to sit in the chair, unlocking it while he settled in. 

In addition to a handful of new emails there were two notifications:  
_Missed call: (unknown caller)_  
_New voicemail_

He puzzled over that a minute. Unknown callers were usually telemarketers, but they rarely left voicemails. He honestly wasn’t in the mood to deal with some bullshit sales pitch, and he seriously considered deleting it without even listening to it. But maybe… just maybe it was Rose. He decided to take a chance and pressed the button, putting the mobile to his ear.

_You have one new message. First new message: “Ian, it’s Rose. I was calling about the theatre.”_ She took a deep breath, and so did he. Surely she was calling to confirm her ‘no’, to make sure he got the message. After all, that’s what ‘can I think about it’ was basically code for. He braced himself for the inevitable. _“If the offer is still good, I’d love to go. You can, um, you can call me back. If you want. Yeah. Okay, bye._ ”

Ian didn’t think he’d ever pushed the ‘call back’ button - or any button, really - so quickly in his entire life. Like lightning he rehearsed what he would say while the line rang. He _had_ to play it cool. It wouldn’t do for him to be a bumbling jackarse when he talked to her. 

She picked up on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Rose? Hi, it’s Ian.” 

“Ian,” she said, and he thought he heard a smile in her voice. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” he answered, realizing that it was true. His mood had improved the moment he heard her voice. “And you?”

“I’m well, thanks. I was calling about the theatre on Saturday - if you still have that extra ticket, I’d love to go.”

“Yes! They’re on my fridge right now.”

“Great. Will you pick me up?”

“Absolutely. Would you want to grab dinner before we go?”

“I suppose that would be logical, wouldn’t it?”

“I like to think so.” He smiled. Couldn’t help it. This was just so effortless. And _good_.

“So you’ll pick me up at…?”

“Six sound okay?”

“Perfect.”

“Alright. I’ll be there at six.”

“I’ll be ready to go. Thanks so much for inviting me.”

“It’s my pleasure,” he assured her, and it was the absolute truth.

“See you on Saturday?”

“See you then.”

They hung up and Ian leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes and smiling, dizzy with his own success. He had a date with Rose Tyler. He’d never really thought she’d say yes, but she _had_ , and now he --

Oh, shit. Now he needed to buy theatre tickets.

He fired up his computer to see what was available. The Mousetrap looked promising - they both liked mysteries and it had been running for more than 50 years, so it must be good - but a quick check revealed that it was sold out for Saturday night. He’d have to find something else. 

The more he scrolled through the listings, the more disgusted he became. Most of the shows were somehow related to a children’s book or were a theatre version of a kid’s movie. There was no way he was taking her to see a play that reminded her of her childhood - or, worse, made her think he saw her as a child. No fucking way in hell. He checked every show that Rose would believe he’d actually have tickets for. Slowly, he began to realize that he might not have much of a choice in the matter. They were all either sold out or didn’t have two adjacent seats still available. 

He had no idea about her feelings on musicals. Personally, he fucking detested them, but if she liked them and it meant spending time with her, he’d fucking cope. But even Dreamgirls, Mamma Mia!, and Book of Mormon were sold out.

Finally he found a showing of Wicked that wasn’t sold out. _Welp_ , he thought. _Guess that settles that, then._ He ordered the best two seats available that were next to each other and printed the receipt, then laid back in his chair with his hands threaded behind his head, victorious. 

A date with Rose Tyler. He couldn’t wait.


	5. Chapter 5

15 October 2011  
Week Seven

Rose straightened the skirt of her dress nervously, hoping what she’d decided to wear would be alright. She'd never been to the theatre and her Mum _certainly_ hadn't, so she'd had to rely on Google to figure out what was appropriate. Deciding to be practical and thrifty, she'd decided to reuse the dress she'd worn for her mother’s ‘vow renewal’. She didn't look half bad, she thought. Her dress seemed to fit just a touch more snug across her breasts than it had a couple of weeks ago. She wondered idly if the dry cleaners had messed up somehow, but dismissed it as unimportant. She still looked pretty. Her makeup was soft and her hair was down. She’d refrained from blow-drying it, leaving it in soft waves.

The way the Doctor had always liked it. 

Tears threatened, but she willed them down. She was spending her days looking for a way back to him, and she’d find one eventually. She had to. But for now, she was in Pete’s World and she knew the Doctor wouldn’t want her sitting around moping. He’d want her living her life, having new experiences - her mother had been right about that. Dressing up and going to the theatre would be a new experience for her, and she was surprised to realize that she was excited. 

Jackie’s voice came from a distance, calling her name. Rose checked the clock, seeing that it was nearly six, and her mum was probably calling because Ian had arrived. She looked at the mirror, checking her makeup one more time, then left her room, closing the door behind her. 

She found Ian in the lounge, sitting on the couch as if he owned the place, his back to her. His hair wasn’t really all _that_ grey, she figured. He pulled the look off well. 

“Sorry to have kept you waiting,” she said, announcing her presence. Ian leapt to his feet, turning towards her, and Rose didn’t miss his eyes sliding up and down her body quickly, taking her in. That was alright, she supposed. Made sense he’d want to make sure she was dressed appropriately. 

But turnabout was fair play, wasn’t it? She let her eyes drop to his feet, taking in the dress shoes. She was relieved to see that she hadn’t overdressed. The dark grey suit he wore now looked just as expensive as the other one had - and fit him just as closely. It was a good look for him.

Her eyes went to his face, and she blinked twice. She’d never seen him in glasses before, but he wore a pair tonight which were black and thick-rimmed. Instead of looking clunky or hiding his face, however, they framed his eyes and softened the sharp angles. 

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Yes?”

“I didn’t know you wore glasses.”

He started towards her. “I don’t usually. But I lost a fucking contact yesterday and I haven’t had a chance to get a replacement.”

She raised her hand to touch the side of his face but lowered it back to her side, her cheeks warming slightly. “I like them. They suit you. You should wear them more often.”

There was that damned smirk again, making her feel wibbly. “Maybe I will, Miss Tyler. Shall we go?” 

Ian offered his elbow to her and she took it, smiling at his gallantry. “We shall.” He smiled down at her and the two of them headed for the front door and out onto the town.

~*~O~*~

17 October 2011

Ian Docherty was feeling mighty damned pleased with himself. 

He’d taken her to one of the nicer restaurants in town before the theatre, after searching for what seemed like fucking hours on the internet to find it. Ordinarily he’d have asked Clara to recommend somewhere, but the idea of her smirking and asking just who he was going to take on a date was too much.

The theatre hadn’t been the waterboarding-level torture he’d expected. He couldn’t say he’d fucking _enjoyed_ it or anything, but it wasn’t terrible. He’d do it again - especially considering that Rose seemed to enjoy herself immensely. That fact alone raised the worthiness of going to the theatre exponentially. 

It had been warm for mid-October, but Rose had shivered anyway while they waited for the valet to bring his car around after the show. He’d wasted no time in taking off his jacket, putting it on her. Her smile when she thanked him would have powered the entire West End, it was so bright, and he felt himself slip just a little farther under her spell. On an impulse, Ian had asked to see her again. He’d frankly expected a no from her, but had been elated when she accepted without even seeming to think about it. She’d put him on the spot when she asked where they were going, but he’d recovered quick enough, he thought, and had told her to dress casually. 

At half three on Monday, he showed up at the Tyler mansion and let himself in as usual. He didn’t see Rose around, so he called out to one of the maids as she was trying to scurry away to let Rose know that he was there, then sat in the lounge to wait. Within a couple of minutes he heard her come into the room and jumped up to greet her, stopping in his tracks when he got a look at her. She was dressed modestly in a jumper and jeans - a simple enough outfit, but the jeans were snug and hugged every curve, and the black sweater fit rather well, too. Somehow she managed to make the combination mind-numbingly sexy. 

“Your contact is still missing, I see,” she said, smiling brightly, and it took a minute for his brain to catch up.

“My cont- yes! I haven’t had a chance to reorder yet. The weekend, you know.”

“Of course,” she agreed, still smiling. “Shall we go?”

“Absolutely.” He rounded the couch and went to her, offering his arm. She took it with a giggle that made him smile, and the two started towards where he’d parked the car.

She waited until he got into the car and they were pulling out onto the road before she asked, “So, where are we going?”

“Well, since we’re both fond of mysteries, I thought we may visit the Sherlock Holmes museum. I’ve never been, but I’ve heard good things. Have you been?”

“No, never. It sounds great.”

“Good. I’m hoping it doesn’t disappoint. Afterwards, I thought we may grab a bite to eat.”

“That sounds great, too. Sounds like you put some thought into what to do.”

“I was hoping to show you a good time,” he said confidently, hoping the flicker of nervousness he felt didn’t come through.

“I’m sure it will be lovely,” she smiled at him. 

He smiled back. “Fantastic.” 

Rose’s smile dimmed a little and he didn’t know why.

~*~O~*~

She walked with Ian along the pavement, enjoying the late-afternoon sunshine after a wonderful visit to the Sherlock Holmes museum.

Pete had done a little coaching about what to do if the paparazzi targeted her, and Rose was grateful that she hadn’t had to put that knowledge into practice so far. She knew her time was limited, though, and cast anxious glances around her, looking for people with cameras. She hadn’t seen any yet - at least not aimed at her - but she still wanted to be vigilant. 

“What are you looking for?” Ian asked, breaking into her thoughts. 

“Hmm? Oh, sorry. The paparazzi. Pete says it’s only a matter of time.”

He raised a sardonic eyebrow at her. “You call your father ‘Pete’?”

She realized her flub immediately, but it was too late to call it back. Scrambling for an answer, she finally said, “He and I, well...it’s complicated.”

“I suppose that makes sense, if you weren’t raised with him.”

“No, I was raised in the north,” she offered, her first Doctor’s face flashing before her eyes for just a moment. 

“Your accent sounds like London.”

Rose flinched internally. There was a lot to keep up with, and she could only help her accent so much. “Most of the girls at my school were from London, and so were the teachers. I know I don’t sound a bit posh, though.”

“You sound lovely,” he assured her, and she cut her eyes over at him. He wasn’t looking at her. “But since you aren’t from here, perhaps you’d like the London experience. We could hit all of the touristy areas, do all of the things visitors are practically fucking required to do. Maybe it’ll help you feel more comfortable in your new home. If you’re lucky, we might even find your name on a fucking keyring.”

Rose couldn’t imagine ever feeling comfortable in Pete’s World, but the line about a keyring made her laugh a little and she found herself agreeing with a genuine smile. “That sounds nice. I’d like that. But only if you give me time to do a thorough keyring search,” she teased with a mock-stern finger pointed at him.

Ian’s answer was a smirk, and she didn’t have time to analyze the way her body reacted to that look. “On my honor, you’ll get to browse the keychains wherever we go. Saturday, then?”

She nodded, grinning. “Saturday sounds good to me.”

They walked a little farther, both lost in their thoughts. Finally, Ian spoke. “So what else are you interested in?”

Rose shrugged. “I like travel, I like history,” she answered, giving herself permission to smile at the thought of the snorting laugh the Doctor would have let out at that. “I really love art, too. I enjoy painting.”

“Perhaps we could visit a museum sometime. Art or history, your choice. Some of those have keyrings as well.”

She snapped back from her wandering thoughts to the man beside her. For all that he swore more than any three people she’d ever known combined, he seemed kind. She sensed nothing from him that alarmed her, and thus far, he was her only friend in Pete’s World. There was no reason to say no, and she was surprised to find that she didn’t want to. 

“Yeah,” she smiled genuinely. “I’d like that.” She really did enjoy his company. Having a friend was making the time she had to spend here in Pete’s World more bearable, and she would probably miss Ian a little when she flew back out into the cosmos.

~*~O~*~

22 October 2011  
Week Eight

“Since when do you go to the theatre?”

Ian tensed at exactly the wrong moment and the cue ball went hurtling straight into the corner pocket. He backed away from the table and glared at Pete while, oblivious, he retrieved the ball for his own shot.

He’d arrived a few minutes early to pick Rose up for a day around town and had been surprised to find out she wasn’t ready to leave. Pete had suggested a game while they waited, but that had been more than 20 minutes ago and he hadn’t expected an interrogation to go along with it.

“It’s the fucking theatre,” he replied. “Even you’ve been known to darken those doors once or twice.”

“True,” Pete said, placing the ball on the table and leaning over to line up his shot. He nudged the cue ball lightly and it rolled, tapping the seven that had been hovering on the edge of the side pocket and dropping it in.

He could sense that there was a ‘But’ coming so he tried to head it off. “A patient had given me the tickets as a thank you. I wasn’t planning to go, but I thought Rose might enjoy it, so I invited her. She had a good time, surely you can’t begrudge her that.”

"This is the third time in a week you've taken her out. Awful damn friendly of you."

“The way she talks she doesn’t have a fucking friend in the world. Sounds like she could use one.”

Pete had moved around the table for his next shot but was just standing there, waiting. “So long as that’s all it is.”

His palms suddenly felt sweaty - he was going to need more chalk before his next shot. The truth was that who she would have been to him if her parents hadn’t hidden her away didn’t matter. He’d only known her a little more than a month, which would make his head spin if he dwelt on it too long, but he knew without a doubt that she was someone he wanted in his life. 

He opened his mouth, ready to lie and say he wasn’t interested in her that way, but Rose walked into the room and saved him.

"You lot aren't plotting world domination, are you?" she asked him with a grin, oddly only glancing at Pete.

Pete snorted. "Not today. We usually do that on Tuesday nights."

Rose giggled and Ian prayed fervently that he didn't look as besotted as he felt. She looked over at him, still smiling. “Sorry I took so long. I hope I didn’t make us late for anything?”

“No, not at all. Just give me a second to ruin Pete’s day.” He bent down and lined up, then shot and sank the thirteen - the last stripe. The cue ball banked and rolled gently into position right in front of the eight. Feeling smug, he lined up again and sank the eight easily. Pete groaned.

Standing up and turning to Rose, he said, “Your father and I keep a tally of wins and losses when we play each other, and start over every January first. So far this year I’m up by six games - well, seven, now.”

“There’s still time for me to give you the trouncing you so richly deserve.” 

Ian chuckled while he put his cue onto the rack mounted on the wall. “There. Now, Miss Tyler, I believe I was going to show you the sights today.”

“I believe so,” she grinned, and Ian once again prayed fervently that Pete couldn’t see what that look did to him. 

“By all means, then,” he gestured towards the door. “Let’s go have an adventure.”

~*~O~*~

Despite having grown up in London - well, the _real_ London - Rose had never been to many of the places that Ian took her to. She knew that they existed, but wasn’t able to suss out the differences. Perhaps that was best. It eliminated the danger of her saying something wrong and putting herself on the spot. She tried to take note of everything she saw, though, thinking that she could have the Doctor take her on a similar tour of London and she’d be able to teach _him_ a thing or two for once.

Ian was knowledgeable and seemed to enjoy teaching her, reminding Rose more than a little of the Doctor - and oddly, making her more comfortable. It was easy to sink into his light brogue as he explained the stories that were depicted in the tapestries hung on the walls of the cathedrals they visited. 

It was late afternoon when Ian suggested that he show her Hyde Park as a final stop. She started to protest - her feet were getting sore - but he seemed like he really wanted to go, so she agreed with a smile. Really, it was no hardship to spend time with him, and she was enjoying herself rather a lot. 

Ian showed her some of the sculptures, exuberantly telling their sometimes colorful stories, making her laugh several times. He was oddly charming, she thought with a smile, standing beside a pond, looking out over the water. She turned to face him, still smiling. 

“Thank you for this. It’s been a lovely day. I’ve had a wonderful time.”

“We never did find your keyring.”

She laughed. “No, we didn’t.”

“Care to look elsewhere another day?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, looking back over the water for just a second before turning back to him. “I worry our search may prove fruitless.”

“We’ll just keep looking, then,” he said, and there was an odd quality to his voice. 

Ian’s eyes roamed her face, and she noticed for the first time just how close they stood to each other. Her mind raced and she felt herself tense with anticipation. His hand came up to cup her cheek and before she could say anything, before she could stop him, he was kissing her. 

His kiss was tender, gentle, and Rose felt her eyes slide closed against her will. But her surrender only lasted a moment before she stiffened and broke the kiss, stepping back from him.

“I’m sorry… I can’t… I had no idea…” she stammered, taking in his wide eyes and disappointed look. 

“Rose --” he started, but she shook her head to cut him off. 

“I… I have to go.” Without another word, she turned and ran/walked towards the entrance to the park, leaving Ian behind and ignoring his voice calling out to her. She managed to get into a cab with the door closed behind her before she started to cry.


	6. Chapter 6

25 October 2011  
Week Nine 

“So,” Jackie remarked too casually as she rustled around the kitchen, fixing breakfast before Rose left for work. They had a full kitchen staff, but there were some things her mum still liked to do herself. “Been spending quite a lot of time with Ian Docherty, I notice.”

Rose felt a pang at his name. She felt guilty for running away from him the way she had a few days before, but his kiss had frightened her. She hadn’t been expecting it and hadn’t been prepared for it, but the scariest part of all was the fact that a small part of her had enjoyed it. She should have been completely repulsed by the thought of kissing a man who wasn’t the Doctor. But deep down inside, in places she didn’t want to talk about, some part of her had melted at his touch. 

That small voice was drowned out by the guilt it created, but none of it mattered. She was in love with the Doctor - not Ian - and she’d be flying away with the Doctor just as soon as he worked out how to get to her...that was, unless she worked out how to get back to him on her own first. Either way, they’d be reunited soon and the point would be moot. In fact, the Doctor would probably find the whole thing funny. He knew her heart belonged to him. It had since the moment he’d said ‘run’.

Her mother was looking at her with a twinkle in her eye that Rose didn’t quite approve of, and she flushed.

“We’ve done some stuff together, yeah.”

“Just ‘some stuff’, eh?”

“Mum!” 

Jackie did her best to look innocent - not fooling Rose at all - when she came to the table. “What? I’m just asking.”

She set down a plate of scrambled eggs and toast, and Rose felt her stomach lurch. Running to the loo at full speed, she just barely made it before throwing up. 

Rose felt a hand on her back a couple of minutes later, when she thought she was done, and looked up wearily. Jackie patiently and kindly wiped Rose’s mouth with a tissue, then laid a cool, damp cloth on her head when she leaned against the wall, feeling wretched. 

Jackie was silent for a few minutes, then asked, “When was your last monthly, sweetheart?”

She jerked her head up to look at her mother. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“When was it?” Jackie insisted.

“My monthlies got wonky on the TARDIS. The last time I had one, I started while we were on the planet Ailrignaf. That was two weeks or so before we fell.”

“So you haven’t had one since we’ve been here?”

“No, but I don’t see what difference that makes.”

Jackie went to the cupboard and fetched a box. She pulled out a pregnancy test, and Rose eyed it warily. 

“Why do you have that?”

“I had a hunch.”

“Well, I’m not taking it.”

“Rose --”

“It’s not possible, Mum. I’m not pregnant.”

“Take the test and we’ll see what happens.” 

She was too drained to fight. “Fine. I’ll take your stupid test. But you’re just wasting time. I’m _not_ pregnant. You’ll see.”

Half an hour later, Rose sat at the kitchen table with her mother and a positive pregnancy test. 

“I don’t know how this happened,” she lamented, turning the test over and over, as if it would say something different if she moved it just right. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“Are you going to ring him?”

She scoffed. “I wish I could.”

“Well, of course you can!” Jackie said, swatting at Rose’s hand like she was being silly. “Pick up the phone and dial. It’s easy. Though, honestly, I'm really surprised at you, Rose. I wouldn’t have thought you’d take up with Mickey again."

She should have known this was coming. "I didn’t."

"Then how --"

"I haven't been with Mickey since I was nineteen, Mum."

“If it’s not Mickey’s then --” Jackie paused for a second and then she grinned. "I knew it."

"What are you talking about?" she asked, confused and a little alarmed by her mother’s tone.

"Ian, of course!"

"Mum, stop."

"Stop what? He's a great --"

"This isn't Ian's baby." Everything about that sentence felt surreal.

"Well, whose is it?"

Rose got up to leave before her mum could see her cry. "I'm not talking about this."

"I’ll call and make you an appointment. You have to see the doctor." 

The words were like a knife through the heart, and she couldn’t breathe.

~*~O~*~

28 October 2011

Ian slipped his pen back into his pocket and walked to the next exam room. He pulled the patient folder out of the slot and opened the door as he looked down at the name. “Good morning, Ms. Ty--”

There on the table was Rose, a blush steadily deepening on her cheeks as she clutched the paper-thin gown she wore closed across her chest. Jackie sat on the chair in the corner, looking far more smug than the woman had any right to be. He hadn’t seen either of them in almost a week. The few calls he’d made and texts he’d sent to Rose had gone unanswered, and he hadn’t yet gathered the courage to visit the mansion.

“Rose? Jackie?” He looked back down at the folder. “Antenatal?”

Jackie stood up and adjusted the strap of her purse on her shoulder. "I'll leave you two to talk."

“Mum, don’t you dare!” Rose hissed, but Jackie ignored her as she brushed by him and closed the door behind her.

“What the fuck was that about?”

Rose took a deep breath and dropped her head on the thin pillow behind her. “My mother is under the impression the baby’s yours,” she said, her eyes trained on the ceiling.

“And why would she think that?” he asked carefully, the memory of one perfect kiss assaulting him. He’d known better than to kiss her, but all of the reasons why he shouldn’t had faded to the background in that moment, when the wind had been blowing her hair around her face and her skin had been rosy, begging for his touch. 

She turned to look at him. “Her own vivid imagination, I assure you.”

Or not. Apparently _Jackie_ had understood that he’d taken Rose out with more than friendship in mind. He glanced down at the folder again. On the blank marked ‘Date of last menstrual cycle’ Rose had written in _over two months ago._ If that was accurate, she’d been pregnant the whole time he’d known her. Maybe that was why she’d been so fragile at the vow renewal. It had to have been hard on her, seeing her parents so happy when her own relationship had recently ended.

“You can tell me to butt the fuck out if you want, but I assume the father’s not around any more?”

Her eyes immediately welled with tears and he couldn’t help but take a step closer.

“No,” she sniffled. “Kind of hard to be when you’re trapped in a different universe.”

His breath caught, but Rose didn’t seem to think she’d said anything odd. He glanced back down at the folder and skimmed over the ‘History of Past Illnesses’. There was no mention of psychoses, and aside from Jackie’s complete personality 180, he didn’t know of any mental disorders in the family.

“It must have been not long before we met,” he prompted, hoping he wouldn’t draw anything else odd out of her, but knowing that he had to at least determine if she was having a psychotic break.

She nodded. “A couple of weeks.”

“Who…?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” She laughed, and it sounded almost hysterical. Ian’s brows furrowed a little more. “Didn’t have a proper name, least not one I ever heard. Called himself ‘The Doctor’. Suppose he must have had some Time Lord name, but he never got around to telling it to me.”

His heart fell more with each word. She needed a fucking psych eval more than she needed an OB. In fact, it was possible she wasn’t even pregnant, that it was just a part of her delusion. He wouldn’t know until he got the result from her urine sample.

But God help him, he still wanted to be close to her, still wanted to try a relationship with her if she’d have him, and maybe after she got treatment they could. However, there was still one thing that needed addressing before that could even be a possibility. There was a reason doctors didn’t treat the people they cared about - professional detachment flew out the fucking window when someone you loved was sick or hurt. He knew that his objectivity would be severely compromised with regard to her. 

So, as much as he wanted the answer to be no, he had to ask the question even though a yes answer would put an end to any possibility of a romantic relationship: “Rose, do you want me to do the exam?”

Her cheeks colored again and the whole time they’d spoken, the grip she had on the front of her gown had never loosened. She shook her head and he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Okay. You get dressed again and I’ll go get Jackie.”

He stepped out of the room and spotted Jackie standing a little ways down the hall, flipping through a magazine. She looked up when he walked up to her.

“You two sort it out then?”

“No, we didn’t fucking sort it out because there’s nothing to sort out.” He looked around them before grabbing her by the arm and pulling her into an empty exam room. “But you need to go back in there. She’s talking fucking nonsense about parallel worlds. She says the baby’s father was a ‘Time Lord’?”

Jackie gasped and covered her mouth with a trembling hand. “Oh no. My poor girl.”

“Exactly.”

She brushed past him again and hurried back to the room Rose was in. Ian followed a few steps behind just in case Rose hadn’t finished dressing yet. When Jackie left the door open he assumed it was safe and stepped in behind her.

“What, really?” Jackie was saying, “Himself finally..." 

Rose nodded, tears in her eyes, and Jackie pulled her into a hug. Her mother shushed her, smoothed her hair, and her voice was gentle when she spoke. "You should have said something, you plum, I’d have taken you to the Torchwood hospital."

“This isn’t Torchwood?” Rose asked, a touch of panic in her voice.

Ian looked from mother to daughter, disbelieving what he was seeing. “Can one of you explain what the fuck is going on?”

They exchanged a glance. Jackie spoke first. “Pete should be with us for this. Come by tonight. We’ll explain then.”

He looked at Rose for her to confirm her mother’s invitation.

She nodded. “Yeah.”

He dragged his hand down his face in frustration, biting back quite a few things he wanted to say. Instead, he sighed and said, “Yeah, alright.”

~*~O~*~

Ian was getting real fucking tired of walking into Pete’s home like he was walking on eggshells, but he opened the door, same as he always did, and made his way to the lounge regardless.

“You want a drink?” Pete offered when he saw him. “Might make this easier.”

“Why don’t you start with telling me they’re not fucking barking?” he demanded, accepting a tumbler.

“It’s true. Every word of it.”

“Just like ‘We wanted to shelter her from the pap’? I’m not sure what I’m supposed to fucking believe here, Pete.”

“I know. And I’m sorry. We’re trying to limit the number of people who know or I’d have brought you in on it from the beginning.”

“You’re sorry - _parallel fucking universes_?”

Pete took a long drink of his scotch. “It’s… complicated.”

Ian growled in frustration. “What the fuck is _that_ supposed to mean?”

But before Pete could answer, there was a noise at the doorway and Ian turned to see Jackie walk in, Rose directly on her heels. Rose looked _terrible_ , eyes red, face swollen, like she’d spent every hour since he’d seen her last bawling her eyes out. Every bit of anger he had over the situation bled away. He had every right to be angry, but Rose’s distress was much greater and more important than his righteous indignation.

Pete joined Jackie and they sat together on one of the sofas. Without looking up, Rose moved to a chair off to the side, just out of her mother’s reach, where she sat and studied her fingernails.

Pete waited until Ian sat on the other sofa and then he launched into a story that would not have been at all out of place on Saturday night telly. He talked for the better part of an hour, explaining about Torchwood and his involvement with them, the Doctor, parallel universes, and how the Doctor and Rose had saved this world from the cybermen. 

When he finished, Pete looked up at Rose and Ian followed his gaze to see her wiping a tear from her cheek. “Rose?”

She shook her head without looking up.

“Rose met the Doctor when she was nineteen,” Jackie said softly, picking up the story. “They traveled together for years in that ship of his, all over the universe. There were times that I hated that barmy alien and all of the dangers he put my Rose through, but I never doubted that he would do anything to protect her. I always knew they loved each other, from that very first time he brought her home late, but I never dreamed there was a relationship.”

"There wasn't,” Rose said, speaking for the first time, her voice so soft it was barely audible. “Not until the very end. We thought...we thought we had forever to build it and grow it."

Ian’s head was spinning. It would probably take days to come to grips with everything he’d just learned, but all of that got pushed aside by his concern for the young woman who seemed so low. 

He leaned towards her and stopped himself from reaching to take her hand just in time. "Are you alright, Rose?"

She nodded, still not looking up. "I'll be fine. I'm just..alone here."

 _Not any more._ He was going to make damned sure of it.

“There was a battle on our side,” Jackie continued with a hitch in her voice that hadn’t been there before. “A rift had been created between the two universes. In order to keep us safe, the Doctor sent us here. Pete had lost his Jackie and I had lost my Pete. It was all very neat, except Rose wanted to stay with the Doctor. She went back. I begged Pete to go after her, and I’m so glad he did. She was falling, you see, into the space between the universes. He caught her and brought her here, just before the rift closed.”

“And now I’m trapped,” Rose said.

Ian looked at her and she finally looked back. Her eyes were red and tears had dried on her cheeks, and he wanted, with every fiber of his being, to go to her, but he stayed put. _Trapped_ in a foreign universe, separated from the man - the alien - she loved, the father of her baby. No wonder she’d distanced herself from him after he’d kissed her.

Pete and Jackie were holding hands when he looked back at them. Doppelgangers, parallel versions of the people they’d loved and lost, yet through a miracle they’d been brought together. 

“So, why wasn’t there a Rose here?”

“Jackie, the other Jackie, always said she didn’t want to spoil her figure. So we got a dog instead.”

Ian snorted. That sounded more like the Jackie he’d known. He wondered idly if there was a parallel version of himself running around in that other universe and then firmly decided that he didn’t want to know.

Rose got up and hurried towards the door, apparently intent on leaving. Ian shot to his feet and followed her, paying no attention to Pete and Jackie’s surprised looks. He caught up with her in the foyer.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, I just...I had to get out of there,” she said before he even got to her. 

“You don’t have to fucking apologize to me, Rose.”

“I just… It’s too much. And then the dog, too?”

Ian snorted. “That dog was a yippy little fucker. I always hated the thing.”

“I remember.”

His head tilted. “How do you - ?”

Rose gave a short, mirthless laugh. “During the cybermen invasion. It’s a long story.”

“Well, I’d like to hear it sometime, if you’ll tell me.”

She gave him a shrewd look. “Even after --”

“Yes. Even after. Rose, I’m still wrapping my head around all of this, but I would like to be there for you, if you’ll let me. I can be your friend, even if nothing else ever comes of it. I know you think you're alone, but you don't have to be. I'm here.”

“I couldn't possibly ask you --”

“You're not asking, I'm offering. No woman should go through a pregnancy alone - especially not while fucking grieving.”

“Ian…”

“Just think about it, yeah? I'm right here.”

“Thank you. That’s more than kind, and after I -- I’m sorry for running away.”

“You don’t need to be sorry, you have enough going on. And I’m a big boy, I can accept that you’re not interested in a relationship. That doesn’t change anything about my offer.” She nodded, looking morose, and he tried to lighten the mood. “You’re actually quite lucky. Most women don’t have an OB/GYN at their disposal. Especially one as talented as me.”

She gave a weak laugh, but her heart wasn’t in it and he knew it. He still appreciated the effort.

“Are you feeling well enough? I mean physically.”

Rose nodded. “I get tired really easily. I’ve been taking a nap when I come home from work everyday. And I’ve been sick to my stomach lots.” 

“Those are both normal in the first trimester. You should be having some relief from that soon. In the meantime, maybe try a little ginger for the nausea.”

“I’m…” She shook her head and wouldn’t meet his eye. “The Doctor couldn’t have ginger. Or aspirin. I don’t know if it was an allergy or what, but he stayed well away from them.”

He genuinely hoped that Rose wouldn’t talk about the baby’s father much, because it felt like an emotional kick in the bollocks every time she did. 

“Smart thinking, then, avoiding those. Make sure to tell your doctor so they can get it in your record. Have you started an antenatal vitamin?”

Rose gave him a weak smile. “I thought you weren’t going to be my doctor?”

“Shit. I’m sorry, I just went into that mode automatically.”

“It’s fine,” she assured him. “An antenatal vitamin hadn’t occurred to me.”

“I think you’ll like it. Most women benefit from antenatals. Hair and nails, shit like that.”

“That would be nice,” she said, but her smile was fading and she looked away.

“I meant what I said, Rose. All you have to do is ring me, and I’ll come running. As a friend.” He glanced at the door to the lounge to make sure no one was there before he went on. “I know your mum isn’t the same as the Jackie I knew, but if I had to guess, she can be a bit fucking much sometimes.”

He was thrilled when she giggled a little. “Just a bit.”

“In that case, you might need someone else. Just...think about it, okay?”

Rose nodded, and he wanted to kiss her cheek, her forehead, to cup her cheek or something, but that wasn’t wise. He’d just offered to be her friend and told her he understood that she didn’t want a relationship. Touching her would undo everything. 

He was surprised, therefore, but very grateful, when Rose went on tiptoes and hugged him.

“Thank you. You’re a good friend.”

Ian’s eyes closed and he did his best not to slump. 

“I do my fucking best.”

“Rose? You okay, sweetheart?”

Her arms fell away from him as they both turned to see Jackie in the doorway. 

“Yeah, Mum. I’m fine.”

~*~O~*~

“I’m just leaving, Jackie,” he said. “I’ll be around in a few days, I’m sure.”

“You sure you don’t want to stay for dinner, love?”

It was on the tip of Rose’s tongue to ask him to stay when he shook his head.

“No, thank you, though.” He looked back at Rose. “Think about what I said.”

When she nodded he reached for the door handle and a few seconds later he was gone. 

A friend. It was less than he wanted, she knew that now, but he’d been kinder about it than any bloke she’d ever known before would have been. If he meant it, she could really use a friend.

Pete appeared behind her mum, likely drawn by the sound of the door closing. “We have one more thing to talk about. We need to figure out what we’re going to tell everyone.”

“It’s no one’s business,” Rose snapped immediately. 

“True, but when has that ever stopped people from asking? It’s the same thing as getting our story straight about you going to boarding school.” He paused. “The easiest thing would be to say that the father abandoned you as soon as he found out you were pregnant.”

“No. Hell no. The Doctor wouldn’t have run away. He’d be here if he could. I -- I’d almost rather say he died.”

Pete exchanged a glance with her mum. “We can do that, if that’s what you want.”

She closed her stinging eyes. Would he actually have stayed or would the prospect of a baby with her have been too domestic? Not to mention, there was no way to tell yet - not with the technology she was having to rely on - but what if the baby was more like her than him? Would he have been able to watch his child grow, live, and die all in the span of about 80 years?

Second-guessing him was getting her nowhere. Opening her eyes again, she looked at Pete and nodded. “Yes. We’ll say he died. And his name was John Smith.”

“One other thing - and it’s entirely up to you whether you want to do it or not - but with Torchwood at our disposal, it wouldn’t be any trouble to falsify public records, like, say, a marriage certificate.”

Her heart literally ached. Forever, she’d said, and he’d accepted that promise, that _vow_ , but within a week she’d broken it, leaving him alone again.

“No. Thank you. It's hard enough having to do this without the Doctor. That would be too much.” 

Jackie stepped over to her then, away from Pete, and pulled her into a hug. Rose let go and cried on her mother’s shoulder. She wasn’t even sure what, exactly, she was crying about - everything in her life seemed dismal at the moment. Her mum rubbed large circles on her back and hummed the same tune she’d always sung to Rose to soothe her when she was sick or hurt or sad, and it had the intended soporific effect. 

Once she had calmed a little, Jackie took a step back, took Rose’s face in her hands and smiled. “C’mon. I know what my girl needs - a spot of tea will set you right.”

Rose fought the urge to burst into tears again, thinking of the Doctor talking about free radicals and tannins. 

Bravely, her lip wobbling a bit, she said, “Sounds good, Mum,” the followed her mother obediently to the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tacking this note on because I almost missed it when posting...
> 
> If you ever see a chapter that only lists one or the other of us as the author of said chapter ('Chapter by _______'), please disregard that as a posting oversight on our part. I can't think of a single chapter of this story that both of us didn't work on and contribute to in one way or another.


	7. Chapter 7

29 October 2011  
Still week nine

Rose was quiet in the car on the way to Torchwood Saturday morning with her mum and Pete. She stared out of the window, watching the city pass by, not really noticing anything in particular. Her thoughts were a jumble, but she supposed most women’s minds were cluttered when they found out they were pregnant.

_Pregnant_. She’d repeated the word to herself so many times over the last twenty-four hours that it had started to sound like a made-up word. But it wasn’t. It was a state of being. It was _her_ state of being. She was going to have a baby. 

A baby. She’d never pictured herself as a mother, not since she was a little girl playing with babydolls. Several of her friends on the estate had fallen pregnant, and Rose hadn’t envied them. She’d actually been a bit smug that she hadn’t turned up at her mum’s flat, up the duff with a child she wasn’t ready for and didn’t want. 

But here she was now, pregnant, and even though her emotions were all over the place, she knew that she wanted this baby. _Her_ baby. 

But what about the Doctor? He was coming, she was sure of it, but would she be able to go with him when he got here? It was entirely likely that the TARDIS could have some kind of radiation or something that could be harmful to pregnant women, or that time travel could damage a fetus. 

And what about when the baby was an _actual_ baby, an infant? She couldn’t very well strap her child to her chest and go on the kind of adventures she’d enjoyed with the Doctor before, could she? She would _never_ put her child in that kind of danger. And the Doctor, bless, he was a dab hand at finding danger hiding in benign situations. Would he be willing to park on Earth - or Pete’s World - so Rose could still be near her mother and go linear for the sake of a child? Would he even be _able_ to do that?

Come to think of it, would he even _want_ a child?

She wasn’t sure. They would have to have a long talk when he got here. 

Pete cleared his throat from the seat across from her and Rose looked up at him, startled. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you, but I did want to talk to you, Rose.”

She’d not known Pete very long, but she knew that tone. Bad news was about to be delivered. She braced herself. 

“Yeah?”

“I’ve been thinking and your mother and I have talked. We think you need to stop working at Torchwood.”

Rose’s shoulders sank further. She should have known, should have seen this coming. 

“Of course. I’m a liability.”

“That’s not it,” Pete assured her. “I can’t, in good conscience, send my daughter out into the field to deal with aliens while she’s pregnant.”

“I’m not your daughter.”

Pete flinched, but didn’t acknowledge what she’d said. “You _are_ pregnant, and you have a very dangerous job.”

Rose nodded, morose, then looked out the window again. The scenery blurred, and she didn’t know if it was the speed they were traveling or her tears that did it.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Jackie said, then Rose felt her mother’s arms go around her, doing what she could to comfort. She let herself sink into her mum, but did her best to be brave. Jackie stroked her hair and her voice was soothing when she spoke. “It’s for the best, Rose. All that stress wouldn’t be good for the baby, you know that. Your number one job now is to keep that baby safe. And it might be harder on you than most because himself’s not here to help.”

“I know,” she fairly whispered. She’d never laid eyes on it, had no idea how big or little it was, knew nothing about it, but she already knew she’d fight to the death for the child she was carrying. 

“The dimension hopper project will keep running,” Pete assured her. “And you’re welcome to consult as needed. But I don’t want to see you at Torchwood as an employee until after the baby’s born.”

“Fine,” Rose said, and even in her ears, her voice sounded dead. 

She was stuck here now. She knew that. Even if they got the dimension hoppers working again, she wouldn’t dare risk a jump through the void, not with a baby. 

Pete’s World was now Rose’s World, forever.

~*~O~*~

31 October 2011

Rose heard Mickey as soon as he came in the front door and exchanged a glance with her mother. Jackie turned off the telly, and Rose took a steadying breath before she called for him. 

“We’re in here, Micks!” 

In another couple of seconds, Mickey poked his head around the door to check if he was in the right place. Spotting Rose and Jackie, he smiled and swaggered into the room. “Hey, babe. Hey, Jacks. Happy Halloween.”

“Happy Halloween,” Rose answered halfheartedly. 

“Why haven’t you been at work? Pete said I needed to talk to you about it and to come by tonight.”

Jackie patted Rose on the shoulder. “I’ll leave you two to talk.” Rose struggled against the impulse to call her mother back so she’d have some kind of shield, but didn’t. Tears pricked her eyes instead.

Once she was gone, Mickey turned to Rose. His face grew concerned when he saw her. “Babe? You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Looks like you’re about to turn on the waterworks.”

She attempted to laugh, but just shook her head when it fell flat. 

“What’s going on? Why weren’t you at work? It’s not like you to lay out.”

Rose had spent the better part of the day trying to think of the best way to tell Mickey about the baby. In the end she simply blurted, “I’m pregnant.”

He stared at her for a few beats while Rose waited for his reaction, biting her lip. Finally, it came.

“Nah,” he said, grinning and waving his hand at her. “You’re taking the mick. You can’t be pregnant.”

“I am, Mickey. I’m pregnant. Dr. Staples and Dr. Bailey at Torchwood think I’m about two months gone. We’ll know more when I see an actual obstetrician.”

The smile was sliding from Mickey’s face, and something in his demeanor changed. Rose flinched. She’d seen this posture from him before and it made her nervous. It took a lot to make Mickey shout, but he looked as if he were ready to do so. 

“You’re pregnant.”

“Yes.”

“Is it mine?”

That earned a scoff from her. “Come off it, Micks. We haven’t been together in years.”

“How the hell am I supposed to know! You were off, sailing all over --” He went very still, as if he’d just had a realization. “If it’s not mine, whose is it?”

“Mickey -”

“It’s the Doctor’s, isn’t it? You and the Doctor, in the TARDIS.”

“It’s not -”

“I don’t _believe_ you, Rose!” He flung his arms up and started pacing. “Every time I asked you, _every time_ , it was all, ‘oh, no, me and the Doctor, we’re not like that’,” he said in a mocking tone, waving his hands. “You _swore_ to me that you weren’t sleeping with him, there was no relationship!”

“There wasn’t!”

“You lie!” he hurled at her. “Because clearly there _was_ a relationship if you’re pregnant! Or did he get you pregnant some alien way, hm? Maybe a tentacle or something?”

“Mickey, stop,” she said, tears spilling over. She crossed her arms around her middle, hugging herself. “It wasn’t like that. I never lied to you.”

“You didn’t even _want_ kids! You told me you never wanted to have a baby!”

“I didn’t! This wasn’t planned, Mickey!”

“But you want this baby. You’re keeping this baby.”

“Yes,” she said. “It’s not even a question.”

“Because it’s the Doctor’s.”

“No, because it’s _mine_.”

Mickey reached up and rubbed both hands over his hair, the way he always did when he was upset. Rose started to speak, but he cut her off. 

“This isn’t natural. People aren’t meant to carry alien babies. And that’s what this is. It’s an alien baby.”

“It’s _my_ baby, Mickey. And if it wasn’t meant to be, I wouldn’t be pregnant.”

“You have no idea what’s going to happen!” he shouted. “You could have a baby that looks like something out of the X-Files or something! There’s no way to know! Having this baby could _kill you_. Have you thought about that?”

Rose sobbed, despondent, when she heard a voice from the doorway growl, “ _Leave her the fuck alone_.”

Mickey and Rose both turned their heads to the door to see Ian standing there, his eyes flashing, his fists clenched by his sides. Rose had never seen him like this, and frankly, even though his eyes were trained solely on Mickey, she didn’t think she ever wanted to see him like this again. 

“Just what do you have to do with it, mate?” Mickey scoffed. “I’m having a conversation here.”

“No, you’re fucking shouting at a pregnant, crying woman. The conversation’s over. Get the fuck out.”

“I know you walk around here like you own the place, but you can’t throw me out of Pete’s house!”

“You’re right. I can’t. But I _can_ remove Rose from the fucking situation.” He stepped into the room, going to Rose and putting his arm around her shoulders. “C’mon,” he said in a quiet, gentle tone, completely unlike the voice he’d been using. Rose followed his direction without thinking, trying to stem the flow of tears. 

Mickey sputtered as they walked past, but Rose didn’t acknowledge him. She just followed where Ian led, even though he dropped his arm from her shoulders as soon as they got out of the lounge. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, sounding concerned. 

She wiped a tear away hurriedly. “I’m alright. Must be hormones or something, I suppose.”

“They are a bitch,” Ian said, and Rose gave a weak laugh. 

“Yeah. I guess I need to buy a book or something.”

“I’ll be happy to answer any questions you have. When do you see a doctor?”

“I saw the doctors at Torchwood on Saturday, the day after I saw you. They confirmed that I am pregnant and guessed I was a couple months gone.”

Ian’s brow furrowed. “They didn’t give you a number of weeks? A due date?”

She shook her head. “They said they’d need an ultrasound to do that, and they didn’t have one. Their best guess for a due date was sometime late spring or early summer.” 

“Did you at least see a fucking OB?”

“I don’t think so. One of them, Dr. Staples, I know was a xenobiologist. Dr. Bailey specializes in trauma, I think, so he can treat any injuries people get in the field.”

Ian scowled, obviously displeased, and she wasn’t quite sure what had upset him. She decided to change the subject.

“Where are we going?”

“Billiards room.”

Before Rose could say anything else, they were there. Ian gestured for her to go in ahead of him, and she did. As soon as she cleared the doorway she saw Pete on the other end of the room. He spotted her and at once put his tumbler down and came rushing over. “Rose? What happened?”

“That fucking idiot of yours, Mickey, was yelling at her for being pregnant,” Ian supplied. 

Pete’s expression darkened and he looked at Rose. “Is that true?”

She felt herself get defensive at once. “He’s just upset. He’s been my friend all my life and we used to date. He and the Doctor never really got on, either, so he’s upset about that. It’s no big deal.”

“If it makes you cry, it’s a big fucking deal,” Ian growled. 

She sniffed and straightened her shoulders, putting on her brave front. She was starting to get good at it. “I’m fine, really. Mickey will cool down and tomorrow he’ll be calling or texting to apologize.”

Ian looked like was ready to argue, but cut his eyes to Pete, who looked thoughtful. “If you’re sure you’re okay,” he said. 

“I am. I’m fine. Really. Stupid hormones make me cry over everything. Normally I’d have given him a Tyler slap,” she lied. 

Pete laughed a little at that. “Alright, then.”

“I’m gonna go find mum, maybe watch some telly.”

“She’s in the kitchen,” Pete volunteered.

Rose smiled as brightly as she could manage, feeling the strain. “Alright. I’ll talk to you two later then. Ian, thank you. I...thank you.”

“It was my pleasure.”

She turned to leave and could feel two sets of eyes on her back. Turning to smile reassuringly at them one more time before she left, she started down the hall. She waited until she was out of earshot before she let the smile fall and she started crying, burying her face in her hands.

~*~O~*~

Ian listened intently to the sound of retreating footsteps in the corridor, waiting until they’d gone completely silent before he turned to Pete. “You have no fucking idea how close I came to committing fucking battery in your lounge a few minutes ago.”

“I appreciate your discretion,” Pete said, dry. “There’s been enough excitement around here lately.”

He snorted, reaching to adjust glasses he’d grown accustomed to wearing again which were no longer there now that he’d finally refilled his contact prescription. “Yeah, this is quite a changeup from your free-wheeling fucking bachelor days.”

It was Pete’s turn to snort. “Yeah, because I was always the stereotypical bachelor.”

They both laughed and took their cues. It was Pete’s turn to rack, so Ian chalked his cue while he did. 

“Rose said she saw a doctor?”

“She saw the doctors at Torchwood, the best I had on hand.”

“She said a trauma doc and a xenobiologist.”

“That’s right.”

“That’s not good enough,” Ian stated baldly. “She needs a fucking obstetrician, and soon. She’s not getting any antenatal care as it stands, and that’s fucking unacceptable.”

Pete eyed him a little, almost suspiciously. After a couple of seconds, he spoke. “She’s going to get the care she needs. I’m hiring an OB - been making a list of the potential candidates. You’re at the top of it, actually.”

“No.”

“What?”

“No. I won’t treat her.”

“Why not? I assumed you wanted to be there for her. You’re perfect for this. She trusts you and you already know the truth.”

“I do want to be there for her, I _will_ be there, but not like that. Give me the list.” Pete pulled a sheet of paper out of his jacket pocket and handed it to him. He looked it over, mentally ticking off all of the reasons the dozen people on it were unsuitable one by one. It didn’t take long. He almost smiled when he got to the bottom of the list and saw the last name there. 

“Talk to Christine Ross in my office. She’s not actually taking new patients right now but she’ll do it as a favor for me. She’s competent, open-minded, and more importantly female, so Rose will be more comfortable with her than anyone on that list.”

Pete was giving him a look he couldn’t quite interpret, but it made him want to squirm. 

“I assume you’ll be consulting then?”

“No. I will, officially, have nothing to do with her case. But I will be on hand for her appointments, if she wants. Particularly her first appointment.”

“I’m sure she will. She rather likes you.”

Ian did his best to ignore the fluttering in his chest at those words. Instead, “The feeling is mutual. I’m quite fond of her.” Before Pete could say anything else, Ian said, “I’d like to be there when Christine is brought in on this. I think that she may take it better if there’s a familiar face around.”

“That’s fine with me.” 

He nodded once, satisfied for the moment, then reached for break stick, went to the end of the table, bent over, lined up, and scattered colored balls all over the green felt.


	8. Chapter 8

3 November 2011  
Ten weeks

Ian sat at the small conference table in Pete’s Vitex office while Pete went to greet Christine and escort her in. He’d seen her that morning at their office, had nodded to her in passing, and then had left before her so that he could be here when she arrived, never letting on that he knew about her out of office appointment.

The door opened and he stood.

“-- not quite sure I understand,” she was saying. Then she looked up and saw him standing there. “Docherty?”

Pete touched her gently on the elbow to get her attention and then gestured at the table. “Have a seat, Dr. Ross. We’ll explain.”

Ian pulled out a chair for her and waited until she sat to return to his own. Pete sat opposite her.

“I don’t know how well-versed you are in society gossip, but my daughter has recently come back to London after traveling for a couple of years. We found out soon after her return that she’s pregnant.”

Christine looked between them, confused. “I understand your privacy concerns, Mr. Tyler, but this could have been handled in my office. I don’t see why you had to drag me down here...” 

Ian remained silent. Hopefully it would give his words more weight when he did use them.

“There’s more,” Pete continued. “We expect this to be a very... high risk pregnancy.”

She sat forward in her chair, interested for the first time. “Go on.”

Pete looked at Ian. Then, “How much do you know about the cybermen attack?”

Her brow furrowed. “That was three years ago. I don’t see what it has to do with a pregnancy in 2011.”

“My daughter was one of the people who stopped Lumic. And she did it with the help of a being we know only as ‘The Doctor’, an alien who looks just like us except he has two hearts and is hundreds of years old. We’re not sure of any other anatomical differences. The baby is his.”

Ian looked down at the table and blinked a few times before letting his eyes slide closed. He’d known the father was alien, but to hear it broken down like that… two hearts, an extended lifespan, and God only knew what other genetic differences? Not to mention Rose’s body being subjected to alien worlds and environments, travelling between parallel universes. How the pregnancy was even viable in the first place was a mystery to him. 

The absolute silence in the room finally registered and he looked back up again.

“This is a joke, right? You’re taking the mick. Is there a camera hidden somewhere?” She made an exaggerated sweep of the room with her eyes, even turning in her chair to see behind her.

“It’s true, Christine,” Ian said, and her head snapped back to face him.

“Come off it, Ian. This is stupid. And it’s not like you.” She pushed her chair back and made to stand.

“And doesn’t that mean something to you? That it’s not like me to be involved in a fucking prank? I trust Pete and I trust Rose. If she says the baby’s half alien then I believe her. When you meet her you’ll see that she’s not fucking capable of this kind of deception.”

“If you believe her then why aren’t you treating her?”

“I’m…” he glanced at Pete out of the corner of his eye, “too close to the situation.”

There was a pause and he held his breath. If Christine said no he’d lose what little control he had over the situation. Perkins and Bannerman, his other two partners, were men - and he wasn’t going to analyze exactly why he was so fixated on Rose having a female doctor - but he’d never subject Rose to them, anyway. Perkins was as dim as a fairy light and Bannerman...well, he didn’t want Bannerman around Rose.

Christine relaxed. “I don’t know what you expect me to do. It’s not like I’ve ever delivered an alien baby before.”

“Our doctors and scientists have never delivered _any_ babies before.” Pete looked down the table at him again and something in his eyes made Ian’s stomach twist. "If something goes wrong... if it comes down to it, I need someone there who can save my daughter."

"Your priority --"

"Is my daughter."

Ian stood and moved away from the table, his eyes on the skyline visible from Pete’s office windows. Rose wasn’t out of the danger zone for a human pregnancy yet, and he began to wonder if there would ever be a time when they could consider her safe up until the delivery. Probably not. He couldn’t begin to fathom the depth of her heartbreak if something were to happen to her baby, but he agreed with Pete. Rose was the priority. The alternative didn’t bear thinking about. 

He returned his attention to the conversation behind him in time to listen to Pete telling Christine about the facilities at Torchwood.

“No.”

“-- state of the art -- what?”

Ian turned back to them. “No. I want Rose to have as normal an experience as fucking possible. She can be seen in our offices, and --”

“She needs to be at Torchwood where we can monitor --”

“We have all the same equipment and the expertise to use them that Torchwood seems to fucking lack. She’ll be safer in our hands, in our office.”

“And what happens if something alien manifests?” Pete asked.

“We’ll deal with that if it happens. Until then, she’s a young woman pregnant with her first child, we don’t need to add to her anxiety by turning her into a fucking science experiment.”

Pete looked at Christine, who nodded. “He’s got a point. She’s already high risk, adding that kind of stress, it wouldn’t be a good mix.”

“Alright,” Pete nodded at him. “We’ll do it your way.” 

“How far along is she?”

“She saw a medical doctor and a xenobiologist at Torchwood. Their best estimate was about nine or ten weeks.”

“And she hasn’t had any care at all?”

“No.”

“The poor lamb. She must be so scared.” 

Ian smelled victory in those words, and even though she hadn’t agreed yet, he relaxed a little. Someone he trusted would be Rose’s doctor. Good.

Pete nodded. “Rose is...tougher than most. But yes, she’s scared.”

Ian changed the subject. Even thinking about Rose feeling frightened was upsetting. “You’ll do it?”

She looked from Ian to Pete, then back to Ian. After just a second she sighed, sagging her shoulders a little. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

Ian let go of a breath, relieved. 

“Thank you, Dr. Ross,” Pete said, standing and offering his hand. Christine got to her feet, too.

“Yes, thank you, Christine.”

“I still think the whole thing is barmy,” she warned them when she let Pete’s hand go. “This is all quite mad. And I’m not quite sure it was an honor to be chosen. We’ll see.”

“You’ll adore Rose,” Pete said, and Ian nodded. 

“I’m sure I will,” she said in the same tone. 

There was a bit more discussion about Rose and the pregnancy, the men giving her all the information they had, then arrangements were made for Christine to talk to the doctor and xenobiologist that had seen Rose.

~*~O~*~

8 November 2011  
Week Eleven

Rose chewed her thumbnail as they sat in the lobby, waiting to be called back. It was Ian’s office, she knew that now, but her appointment was with one of his partners. If anything, she was more nervous now than she had been the first time she’d sat here waiting to be called back. 

Her mother flipped through a magazine, not seeming terribly concerned about the fact that they were in an obstetrician’s office, waiting to be seen. In fact, Jackie seemed almost pleased with the developments so far. Rose didn’t quite know what to make of that. 

A door opened and a nurse stepped out, holding a chart in her hand. “Krista Webb?”

A heavily pregnant woman got to her feet and waddled over to the nurse, smiling and patting her tummy as she went. The two women disappeared into the back, and Rose started chewing her thumb again. 

“Breathe, Rose,” her mother admonished without looking up. “And quit biting your thumb.”

Rose dropped her hand into her lap. “I can’t help it. What if they find something weird? It’s entirely likely.”

The door opened again and a different nurse stepped into the waiting room. “Heather Stokes?”

A redheaded woman, less pregnant than the last one, got to her feet and went to her appointment. Rose watched the woman and wondered what she was going to look like when her belly started expanding.

“They’re going to find a baby,” her mother’s voice interrupted her musings, “and that’s all. Are you going to love it any less if it’s...different?”

“Of course not!” 

“There you go. It doesn’t matter what they find. Your baby is your baby.”

Rose pondered on that for a second. Her mother was right. She was going to love this baby - she already _did_ love this baby. She’d still feel the same no matter what this new doctor found.

“Rose?”

She jerked her head up when she heard Ian’s brogue saying her name. He caught sight of her and smiled; despite her nerves, she smiled back. He beckoned for her to come with him, and both she and her mother got to their feet to follow. 

“You playing nurse today, Ian?” Jackie teased a bit. Rose recognized it for what it was and gave a weak smile.

He looked at Jackie almost suspiciously. “You are so fucking different now.”

“Way I hear it, that’s a good thing.”

“It definitely is.”

“Where are you taking us?” Rose asked. “What’s about to happen?”

“You’re a bit different from most patients, as I’m sure you know.” Rose nodded. “The first thing we’re going to do is go to Dr. Ross’ office and have a chat with her so she can get to know you a bit and you can get to know her. After that, it’ll be a fairly regular appointment. We’ll get your height, your weight, and we’ll need a urine specimen, as well as blood. Those will go to Torchwood. Then Dr. Ross will examine you, and we’ll do an ultrasound.”

“Will you be with me?” she asked impulsively, and immediately flushed to the roots of her hair. How presumptuous could she be? He had other patients, and she wasn’t his responsibility. It was really quite --

“I cleared my schedule so that I’d be available for you, if you want,” he told her, and his blue eyes were kind. Rose felt herself relaxing a little. 

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

“Good. I’ll stay.”

~*~O~*~

Rose liked Dr. Ross. She was around the same age as Jackie, but had brown hair with little silver strands here and there (her mother dyed all evidence of grey away). Her brown eyes were warm, and she seemed genuinely kind when she grilled Rose for information about the Doctor and his anatomy. Ian excused himself for a minute when she started up that line of questioning. Rose wanted to ask him to stay, but he probably had other things that needed to be done.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t much more Rose could add to the information that Dr. Ross had already been obtained about the Doctor from Torchwood. Ian came back in just before Dr. Ross stood and said it was time for the exam. 

Rose left the urine sample, and when the phlebotomist came to draw the blood in the lab, Ian distracted her with conversation to make the needle stick easier. She was touched by his thoughtfulness. 

The exam had been next, and Ian had waited outside while Dr. Ross did the physical exam that needed to be done. Once that was finished, Rose redressed and was ushered to the radiography room. 

Now she reclined on the uncomfortable table with her jeans unbuttoned and knickers pushed down a ways, exposing her belly. Ian sat in a chair to her left, and her mother stood beside the table. She fought the urge to reach for their hands...if she did, they’d feel how much she was trembling. 

This was it. She was about to see her baby and find out if it had taken after her or the Doctor...if it was even viable. She closed her eyes and prayed to every deity she remembered encountering one universe over that her baby would be safe and (mostly) normal.

“Alright, Rose, this is going to be a bit of a cold shock,” Dr. Ross said right before she squirted jelly all over Rose’s belly. She jumped a little - it _was_ cold - then did her best to relax. 

Dr. Ross took a breath and blew it out. “Here we go! Let’s see what we’ve got here.”

She put the wand down into the jelly and spread it around, then slowed down and moved it this way and that. Rose thought she may jump out of her skin with nerves, and flinched when Ian put his hand gently on her arm. “Relax, Rose.”

“I don’t think I can,” she admitted, near tears.

“It’s going to be alright. No matter what happens, it’s going to be alright,” her mother reassured her, kissing her hair. 

Rose nodded, trying to be brave, but her eyes were locked on Dr. Ross’ face. The doctor looked serious, but then she smiled and flipped a switch on the computer. At once, the screen on the far wall lit up, and Rose saw a black-and-white image of what was unmistakably a baby.

“Is that…” she tried to ask but couldn’t finish.

“That’s your baby,” Dr. Ross said, smiling. 

“And my grandbaby!” her mum exclaimed, excited. “Oh, Rose! A grandbaby!”

Ian leaned closer. “Everything looks really good so far, Rose. Baby has two arms, two legs...and one heart.”

“One heart,” Jackie cried, and she sounded relieved, too.

“Want to hear?”

Without waiting for an answer, Dr. Ross pushed a button and a rapid, rhythmic swishing sound filled the room.

“That’s the heartbeat,” Ian near-whispered.

Rose wasn’t paying them any mind, she was looking at her baby, listening to its heartbeat. The baby raised its arm, and Rose asked the room at large, “Are those…?”

“Fingers,” Ian supplied. “Tiny little fingers.”

Tears stung her eyes and ran down her cheeks unchecked, but no one noticed. They were busy watching the little miracle on the screen. 

“Is it a boy or a girl?” she asked Ian this time.

He shook his head. “It’s a bit too soon to tell for sure. Even if we wanted to make a guess we couldn’t because of the way it’s laying. But see that little string of pearls there?” he asked, putting his face close to hers and pointing at the screen. “That’s the baby’s spine.”

“My baby’s spine,” Rose murmured, awestruck and smiling. “My son or daughter.”

Dr. Ross took some measurements, snapped some screenshots, and checked on a couple of things. Ian explained everything she was seeing. Entirely too soon, Dr. Ross said, “Alright, that’s it for now,” and removed the wand, wiping the goo from Rose’s belly. Rose helped a little with the napkins she’d been given and then buttoned her jeans, still beaming. 

Once they were done, Dr. Ross handed the pictures she’d taken over to Rose. “We’ll talk a bit more in my office. Dr. Docherty can lead you there.”

Rose nodded absently, got to her feet and followed the gentle pressure of Ian’s hand at the small of her back.

~*~O~*~

Ian was enjoying watching Rose and Jackie exclaim over the sonogram pictures when Christine bustled into the office just a couple of minutes after they’d sat down. She smiled at all of them when she took a seat on the other side of her desk.

“I have to tell you, Rose, I wasn’t sure what to expect when your father and Docherty approached me about being your doctor. But you seem entirely healthy, the baby seems to be healthy, but perhaps most important of all, the baby appears to be human. I see no anatomical differences thus far.”

Rose looked a little confused. “Thus far?”

“Think of it like building a house,” Ian broke in. “Having a bed and refrigerator and television are all good things, things you need. But you have to have an actual house before you get those things. It’s a bit like that with babies. You need a place for the gall bladder and stomach to go.”

“That makes sense,” Jackie agreed. 

Christine picked up again. “So far, the baby’s anatomy looks human. That may change, but if it does, I suspect any changes will be internal. Externally, the baby will look just like you.”

Rose seemed to relax a bit, and Ian smiled to himself. Good.

“Your due date is May 28th. Of course, that may change if the baby’s gestation is shorter or longer due to its father being...extraterrestrial.” 

Ian fought down the stab of jealousy he felt every time the fucking Doctor was mentioned. He was hoping that talk about that particular extraterrestrial fuckstain would be very, very sporadic. 

“I’ll want to see you every two weeks instead of the typical once a month I would see most patients.”

“Alright.”

“I’ll go with you to your appointments if you like, Rose,” he volunteered before he could chicken out. “Explain anything you might not understand.”

Rose looked at him like she was sizing him up, then smiled. “Yeah, alright. I appreciate that.”

“No problem.”

Christine narrowed her eyes at him, then went on as if she hadn’t been interrupted. “Make sure you get plenty of rest and drink lots of water. Other than that, you’re free to go - just stop at the front desk and get an appointment for two weeks from now.”

Rose, Jackie, and Ian got to their feet, and Rose and Jackie each shook Christine’s hand. Ian walked them to the checkout window, waited while Margaret scheduled Rose’s next appointment, then waved when they stepped out into the fall sunshine, smiling. 

He went back to his office and sat down with some paperwork. His next appointment wasn’t due for another twenty minutes, but he heard a knock at the door almost immediately. Looking up, he was surprised to see Christine leaning against the doorjamb. 

“Yeah?”

“What’s going on with you and Rose Tyler?”

He tried not to show how the question rattled him. “Nothing,” he answered honestly. “She’s a family friend.”

“We’ve treated several family friends. None of us clear our schedules for every appointment. None of us clear our schedules for _any_ appointment.”

“Rose is… special.”

“She is. But you don't need to sit in on all the appointments. I'm not going to harm the girl or the baby.”

“I know that. If I thought that, you never would have laid eyes on her. As long as she wants me there, I'll fucking be there.”

“You’re playing with fire, Ian.”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” he lied.

“You’re interested in that girl. And you’re going to get burned, potentially badly.” 

“I can take care of my fucking self, thanks.”

Christine just narrowed her gaze at him, then shook her head, sighing. “On your own head be it.”

He waited until she left to ring Clara’s desk. 

“Yeah?”

“Clear my schedule on the twenty-second at eleven. I’ll work through lunch if I have to, but keep that hour clear.”

“You got it.”

He leaned back in his desk chair and laced his fingers behind his head, staring at the ceiling, having a talk with himself until Clara came to fetch him for his next appointment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I damn near deleted this entire chapter trying to copy/paste. Thank heavens for the undo button.


	9. Chapter 9

10 November 2011

As excited as Rose had been to see her baby and hear the news that it was healthy and viable, she had nothing on her mother. Jackie had insisted that they go shopping as soon as they left Ian’s office. Rose was dubious of her mother’s claim that she just wanted to browse and get ideas of what they’d need. Her suspicions were proven correct when Jackie had started picking up things to purchase. 

“Mum,” she’d said, “we don’t even know if the baby is a boy or girl. This is all premature.”

“Hush,” Jackie had admonished her. “You’re not going to steal my joy over having my first grandbaby.”

“Mum…”

“Oh, Rose, look at the little socks! So tiny!”

Jackie’s enthusiasm had been contagious, and Rose had had hard time telling her mum ‘no’ when she bought several items, including a newborn gown with ducks on it, a couple of gender-neutral bibs and a package of the tiny socks. Rose herself had picked up a copy of ‘What To Expect When You’re Expecting’, figuring her pregnancy couldn’t be _that_ different from a regular, human one. They’d had a nice lunch at a cafe, then gone back to the mansion. 

Late the next afternoon, Rose was curled up with What to Expect in the lounge beside the fire when she heard the door. It was about time for Pete to be getting home, so she didn’t pay any mind until she heard Mickey call her name in the foyer.

She sighed. “In here, Micks!” she called back, but didn’t bother to get up. 

Mickey came striding into the lounge and the wary smile Rose had been wearing for him slid off her face. Something was off. He looked afraid and angry at the same time. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked, alarm growing.

He just looked at her for a second, then walked across the room, handing her the red top in his hand. She felt a stone in her stomach, then looked down at the magazine, reading aloud. 

“ _Is The Vitex Heiress Up The Duff? Ever since the surprise appearance of an heiress that nobody had ever heard of at the beginning of September, Rose Tyler has been a media curiosity. She’s kept a relatively low profile, not attending any social events as of yet and mostly keeping to herself in the expansive Tyler Mansion. But this week she ventured out with the woman she claims is her mother, and we were able to snap some photographs of her leaving Cradle, the baby superstore. Both women carried bags and were sporting bright grins. It’s a relief to see Rose Tyler looking less dour! Is she really pregnant? Look at the photos and decide for yourself…”_

Rose looked at the photos. One was of her a few days after she’d landed, when her grief was fresh. Her face was mostly hidden behind large sunglasses, but it was easy to tell that she was unhappy. Especially compared to the photo next to it, taken just yesterday as they left the baby store. Rose and Jackie were both smiling, happy, each of them toting a bag clearly labeled with the name and logo of the store they’d just left. 

The idea that people would take photos of her was bothersome enough. But she could deal with that; being in the media spotlight was apparently part of her new life here in Pete’s World. What was distressing were the side-by-side zoomed in photos of Rose’s torso with large circles drawn over her lower abdomen. She didn’t see all that much difference in the two photos, but she knew it wouldn’t be hard for gossip-prone people to imagine a bump there. And if she was being honest, she’d noticed her denims getting a little tighter lately. But that was no one’s business but her own. She instinctively covered her belly, as if to protect it from harm. Tears pricked her eyes but she blinked them back and read the rest of the article. 

_Perhaps Rose Tyler materialized from thin air because she was pregnant and needed a soft landing. What could be softer than a Vitex trust fund? Is she really pregnant at all? We suppose only time will tell…_

“Babe?” Mickey said hesitantly. Rose didn’t look up at him, she just kept staring at the photos of her - photos that had been distributed all over Britain and were almost certainly all over the internet, too. 

She felt a flash of anger. How _dare_ these people take her photo without permission? How _dare_ they speculate about her life? How _dare_ they critique her body? She was having a hard enough time adjusting to life in this universe without being scrutinized for it. 

“Don't cry, babe.”

Frustrated with herself when she realized angry tears were spilling, she put her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands, not looking at him. She shouldn’t be crying - the old Rose she’d left behind never would have fallen apart over something like this! Was this what being pregnant was going to be like? Was she going to be brittle all the time now? God, she hoped not. 

She'd forgotten Mickey was there until he spoke again. He’d crouched in front of her, looking up with a worried expression. She knew he wanted to hug her, wanted to comfort her, but Rose didn't want to be touched. 

Wiping away her tears, she sat up straighter, putting distance between them. “Thanks for bringing it by, Micks.”

It was as clear a dismissal as she could make without actually telling him to go away, but he didn’t seem to want to take the hint. He leaned closer.

“Rose, if you want, I’ll do the right thing.”

She sniffled as she wiped a hand across her cheek. “What?”

“You know… _the right thing._ ”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I’ll marry you.”

“What?!” she cried.

“I’ll marry you,” Mickey repeated, sounding very proud of himself and as if he were bestowing a great gift. “That way, people will stop talking about you.”

Rose didn’t know what to say, she just gaped at him. “And the baby?”

Mickey shrugged. “I’ll raise the baby too, I guess. But think about it. That way you won’t have to be single and pregnant.”

She huffed a laugh and shook her head. He was being kind, in his way. A bit hamfisted, but he was trying, and Rose believed he was sincere.

“Thank you, Micks. I appreciate that. But I’m not afraid to be single and pregnant.”

“But --”

“I really do appreciate it, Mickey. But no.”

Mickey just kind of looked at her for a minute, sizing her up, then shrugged again - steeling Rose’s resolve. “Alright, then. If you’re sure. The offer still stands.”

“I’ll remember that,” she said with a smile.

They chatted for a few minutes, then Mickey started casually mentioning things he needed to do. Rose shooed him away, going back to the armchair she’d vacated and picking up one of the other red tops he’d brought in. This one also speculated that she was pregnant, and although the photos had been taken on different occasions, they were a bit more damning due to the fact that she was wearing a blousy, flowy top. 

Tears welled up in her eyes and she bowed her head, crying. Was this what her life was going to be? Would there be cameras following her everywhere she went? That was no life for her, much less for her baby. Would the interest in her die down eventually? God, she hoped so. But in the meantime…

Her mobile went off beside her. 

~Ian: _how are you?_  
~Rose: _pretty shitty at the moment. you?_  
~Ian: _I’ve been worse._

Rose didn’t bother to answer the text...she wasn’t quite in the mood for chit chat just then, anyway. She wiped her eyes and took a deep breath to clear her head, then went back to her book.

An hour later, she heard the door in the foyer open and close, but no voice called out. Intrigued, she got up and went to investigate. 

Ian was standing in the foyer, poking his head into rooms, looking for something. She grinned at the sight of him. “Can I help you?”

“Ah! There you are. Thought I was going to have to send out a fucking search party.”

“No search party needed, I’m right here. What’s all this?” she laughed.

“I brought dinner," he said, gesturing with the two pizza boxes stacked on his right hand like a waiter with tray. Hanging from his left hand was a sack that looked like it contained two large bottles of soda. “I figured you may be fucking bored, and, well, everybody's got to eat."

Her lips curled into a smile. He really was terribly charming, in his own way. She gestured towards the bag. “Better not let Pete see that.”

“See what?”

“You brought Cokes to the home of the CEO for Vitex.”

“Shit. Didn’t even think about that.”

Rose giggled. “I’m only kidding, it’s no bother. Vitex has been upsetting my stomach anyway, and he knows that. It won’t be an issue. You want to put all of that down in the kitchen?" She gestured back the way he’d come and started walking in that direction.

"Actually," he said, stopping her, "I thought we might watch telly while we eat. Unless you're opposed to eating in the lounge."

Rose shrugged and shook her head. "No, not really. What are we watching?"

"My favorite show. It’s called ‘The Yard’. I thought you may like it. It's a police procedural so it’s kind of a mystery/drama, but it's funny. And it's got a couple of fucking romantic subplots. I know most women eat that shit up."

She snorted a laugh. "That's true, we do.” She sized him up a minute, considering. He didn’t flinch. After a moment, she said, “Yeah, alright. We can watch your daft show, then. I’ll get us some plates."

~*~O~*~

He’d gambled when he ordered the pizzas, having no idea what she’d like. Everyone liked pepperoni, he figured, and he’d been right. She seemed to enjoy the meal, and he enjoyed seeing her happy. He’d seen the tabloids and suspected they’d upset her, so he’d texted. She hadn’t confirmed the reason she’d been ‘pretty shitty’, and he hadn’t asked. But he could guess. 

The show ended and Ian turned to her, his face hopeful and expectant. “So, what do you think?”

She took a sip of her drink and nodded as she swallowed. “I like it! It’s really good. I think I might like it better when I know all the characters and their backstories.”

“That’s true,” he acknowledged. “You are coming in on the fifth season.”

“I’ll be interested to see what happens, though. It comes on every Thursday?”

“Yes.”

“That gives me something to look forward to, then,” she said with a smile, and he smiled back. Couldn’t help it. He’d done something to make her happy. He’d given her something to look forward to. He’d caused a smile, and that felt wonderful.

“So,” she said, leaning back into the corner of the couch. “What’s been going on in Ian Docherty’s world?”

He shrugged. “Same shit, different day. Nothing at all exciting.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said with a grin. “I imagine being an obstetrician would be terribly exciting. You’re helping to bring new life into the world.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” he said, a little sheepish. “No deliveries today, though. What about you? Are you settling in alright?” It was close as he dared get to the topic of the red tops. He wanted to leave the door open for her to talk about it if she wanted, but he didn’t want to push her. 

"I'm looking at moving out."

He was surprised. “Really?”

“Yes. I think I need to get away.”

"Too crowded here?" It wasn’t the biggest mansion in the world, but six bedrooms and over 12,000 square feet shared between three adults didn’t seem ‘crowded’ to him.

She huffed a little rueful laugh. "Feels that way."

"Where will you go?"

Rose sighed. "I don't know. Somewhere close. Single mum and all that… I'll need the help."

He thought for a second about his next words, judging them a bad idea -- before he opened his fucking mouth and said them anyway. "You could always move in with Mickey."

She actually laughed, but it wasn't a happy sound and it died with a shake of her head. "I know what you're suggesting, and no. He’s already suggested it and I turned him down.” Ian felt a stab of jealousy and anger that the idiot would do such a thing. Rose went on. “First and foremost, I don't want him. But second - and more importantly - this baby would never be his. He'd never love it the way a father would. The best I could hope for from him would be 'tolerant stepfather'. No, ta."

It was on the tip of his tongue to say, _You could move in with me_. He didn’t live in a mansion like Pete, but his house was comfortable and had more than enough space for Rose and the baby. But her primary objection to Mickey was that she didn’t want him and, well, she’d made her feelings about _him_ perfectly clear.

“You know,” he said instead, “your dad --”

“He’s not my dad.”

“-- would -- what?”

“He’s not. He looks like my dad, and mum keeps trying to convince me that he’s the same, but my dad died when I was a baby.”

“I thought with the parallel universes thing…” But Rose was shaking her head. 

“That whole thing with Lumic and the Cybermen? It all happened so fast I never got a chance to introduce myself to him. Then when it was all over and we were getting ready to go back to our universe I told him that another Pete and Jackie had had a daughter instead of a dog. Called him ‘Dad’.” She laughed sadly. “You know what he told me? ‘Don’t.’ So, you know what? I won’t.”

“He’s been referring to you as his daughter,” Ian mused.

“And he’s welcome to do so. I won’t embarrass him by calling him a liar. But his instinct was to push me away and that’s hard to get past.”

He was thoughtful for a moment, then asked, “Does he _treat_ you like a daughter?”

“I don’t know,” Rose answered, picking a pepperoni off of one of the remaining slices and popping it in her mouth. “I never had a father, so I don’t know what they’re supposed to act like.”

With an internal sigh, he forced a smile. “Do you have any nominees for a new flat?”

Rose shook her head. “No, I haven’t really looked. I’m probably not going to. There’s a cottage here on the property that would be perfect for me. It’s two bedrooms and bigger than the flat I grew up in, so I know it’ll be plenty of room for me and the baby. Plus I’d only be a couple hundred yards from my mum, if I needed her.”

“That sounds like a smart plan. I’ve stayed in the cottage. It’s nice. Needs paint.”

“It needs a bit of work, yeah. And new furniture. So it’s not quite ready to move in.”

“You’ve got time,” Ian said. “She won’t be here until May, and it’s only November.”

“She?” Rose asked with raised eyebrows. “Do you know something I don’t? Could you see the baby’s sex?”

“No,” he answered honestly. “I just have a hunch that it’s a girl.”

She smiled at him. “You’re wrong. I’m sure it’s a boy.”

Ian cocked an eyebrow and smirked. “I’ve got a tenner says it’s a girl.”

Rose’s tongue came to the corner of her mouth and he felt his heart flutter a little. “You’re on,” she said, offering her hand. 

He shook it, enjoying the momentary feel of her skin against his. “Fucking fabulous. Now, let’s talk about getting you caught up on The Yard…”


	10. Chapter 10

15 November 2011  
Week Twelve 

Ian pulled his cue off the wall and turned around, chalking his stick while Pete racked the balls. Once Pete had the balls in formation, he grabbed the break stick, bent over, and shot, scattering the balls across the green felt. The four dropped, and Pete’s face was blank when he went to replace the break stick and get his cue. Ian waited patiently while Pete shot at the two, missed, and stood back from the table. Ian approached, mentally mapping out the lay of the table and deciding on a shot. He bent over, lining up, and sank the thirteen easily. 

“How was Rose’s appointment?”

Ian paused in his perusal of the table. “Jackie or Rose didn’t tell you about it?”

“They did, but I’d like to hear from a medical standpoint.”

“Sorry,” Ian said, going back to his game. “Rose’s privacy trumps your curiosity.” He shot and sank the fifteen.

“Oh, come on. She’s my daughter.”

“She doesn’t see it that way.”

Pete slumped a little. “I know. I deserve that. I felt...I don’t know. Connected to her or something the night I met her, but when she told me she was my daughter, I panicked. But she _is_ my daughter and I _do_ care about her, no matter what she thinks. I’m hoping to win her over eventually. But in the meantime, I’m just trying to do what any father would do when his daughter’s pregnant.”

Ian felt bad for Pete. He’d rarely seen his friend speak so vulnerably. Gentling his tone, he answered. “To the best of my knowledge, you’re not on her release form. I can’t tell you a thing. It’s against the fucking law.” 

“Can you tell me _anything_?”

“The baby is viable.”

“Already knew that, thanks,” Pete snarked.

“That’s all I’ve fucking got, and I shouldn't have even told you that much. My hands are tied.”

“What can you tell me about pregnancy in general? Not -” he talked over Ian, “specific to Rose. Just...in general.”

Ian eyed his best friend. “Why do you want to know?”

“I’ve never had children - well, you know what I mean. If I’m going to be living with a pregnant woman, I’d like to know what to expect.”

There was no harm in that particular line of questioning, Ian thought. And Pete was right - there was a learning curve to living with a pregnant woman. He couldn’t very well send his best friend into that kind of situation unprepared - especially not when he was in the best possible position to help him. He was _literally_ an expert on pregnancy. 

The two men had stopped playing, but he figured that was probably best. They could both pay attention to each other that way.

“None of this is Rose-specific. It’s all generalized. It may _apply_ to her, but it's not _about_ her. Understand?”

“Sure.”

He wondered where to begin. Finally, he got started. 

“A pregnancy is divided into three parts, called trimesters. Each one is a bit different.”

“Which one is Rose in?” Ian cut him a look. “Nevermind.”

“In the first trimester, the biggest complaints are usually nausea and fatigue. That generally passes around the start of the second trimester, which is the easiest of the three.”

“Why is it easiest?”

“Most women feel really good, really energetic in their second trimester. Their belly doesn’t generally interfere with things they like to do, and as I mentioned the nausea and fatigue are gone.”

“Okay. What happens in the third trimester?”

“It’s the home stretch, but nearly every woman gets uncomfortable, especially towards the end. Some of them get _really_ fucking uncomfortable. The fatigue tends to come back and the women require a lot of rest.”

Pete nodded, indicating he was taking all of this in. “Okay. What else?”

“There are certain things that pregnant women shouldn’t have, or should be limited. Alcohol and smoking are out, of course, but some of the things they shouldn’t have are things you wouldn’t expect. Lunchmeat. Most fish. Caffeine.” 

“So some dietary changes.”

“Yeah, and some lifestyle changes, too, but most of that is common fucking sense. If it’s dangerous or you could get hurt doing it, don’t do it. Pregnancy is not the time to be a fucking thrill-seeker.”

“Sounds good. We’ve already handled that as far as Torchwood is concerned. She’s on leave until after the baby’s born.”

Ian relaxed a little bit, hearing that.

“Anything else I should know?”

“Yeah,” Ian said. “Probably the most important bit. Every pregnant woman is a fucking mess of hormones. They can’t help it. They get really emotionally… touchy sometimes.”

“Touchy how?”

“The least little thing will set them off; either they get angry or, more often, they cry. Occasionally, they’ll be in a fantastic mood for no reason at all. It won’t make any fucking sense to you, and it won’t make any fucking sense to her. It’s just one of those things that happens. It affects some women stronger than others. But the important thing to remember is: she can’t fucking help it.” 

“That’s good to know,” Pete said, looking thoughtful. 

“There’s more, but that’s the most common stuff and what’s most likely to affect you.”

“I appreciate it.”

“No problem.” He turned back to the table and aimed at the eleven, then stepped back from the table when he missed. 

Pete approached the table and got ready to shoot while Ian chalked his cue again. He shot, sank the one, then stood up and looked Ian dead in the eye. 

“Is my daughter going to be safe?”

Ian felt a jolt of dread, just thinking about the possibility that she might _not_ be safe. 

“Pete,” he started, but a sound cut him off.

“Hello? Oh,” Rose said, stepping into the room and looking startled. “I’m sorry to bother, I thought I heard voices but didn’t know you were here.” She smiled at him. “Hello, Ian.”

“Hello, Rose,” he answered with a genuine smile back at her. 

“Hello, Rose,” Pete said, sounding a little chagrined. Ian and Rose both looked over at him. 

“Hi,” Rose said, and her voice was not as warm as it had been for Ian. “I didn’t know you guys were playing tonight.”

“It’s Tuesday,” Ian explained. “We play every Tuesday.”

She smiled at him again, full-wattage, and as he’d expected, his knees wobbled a little. 

“So it’s a standing date, huh?” Her tongue went between her teeth and he did his best not to sigh like the lovestruck fool he was. 

“Yeah,” Pete interjected, drawing her attention again and killing the smile she’d been giving him. “We’ve been playing once a week for a couple of years now.”

Rose nodded in acceptance, then smiled a little. “I’ll let you two play, then.”

“You’re welcome to stay,” Pete offered, taking a step forward that looked involuntary.

She shook her head. “I shouldn’t. I don’t even know how to play.”

“We can teach you,” Pete said. “It’s not hard to learn the basics.”

Rose looked at Pete for a minute, then over at Ian. There was something in her eyes that he couldn’t identify, something like fear, and he couldn’t stand it.

“I’ll show you,” he offered. “Who knows? You might have some fucking fun. And it’s a handy skill to have.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Playing pool is a handy skill to have?”

“You never know when there’s going to be a fucking popup game. It’s best to be prepared,” he said, feeling himself smile a little, even though he tried to look serious. 

Rose laughed, sounding truly happy and he would have preened, had her father not been standing nearby. “You’re funny,” she grinned at him, completely ignoring Pete. “Yeah, alright. I’ll play your daft game. You’ll show me how?”

“Absolutely,” Ian promised, shooting a glance over at his best friend and noting his slightly downtrodden look. He turned back to Rose. “You can play with my stick.”

Her eyebrows shot up and he realized what he’d said. Fighting the urge to hide in a hole and feeling his cheeks and ears flaming, he started, “I’m sorry, I just meant…”

“I know what you meant,” she said, her eyes twinkling at him. He relaxed a little - she didn’t seem angry. Good. 

She approached him where he stood at the table, still not paying attention to Pete, and took the cue. For nearly an hour, he showed her the rules and basics of pool while she played against Pete, coaching her as best he could. Despite what he desperately wanted to do - which was to get as close to her as possible and help her - he only touched her twice: when he showed her how to hold her hand on the felt and again when he showed her how to swing her arm like a pendulum. Pete watched them together, almost _studied_ them, and Ian did his best not to seem affected - either by her proximity or Pete’s scrutiny. 

When the clock struck nine, she yawned hugely. “I should go to bed. It’s getting late.”

Ian didn’t think it was late at all, but wasn’t about to argue with her when he knew she needed rest.

“Thank you for teaching me to play,” she told Ian with a brilliant smile. “Now I have a new life skill to help me in whatever I choose to do.”

He smirked at her. “Well, I couldn’t let you go into the world fucking unprepared, now could I?”

She tittered, and he felt a warmth spread through him. 

Rose turned to Pete, still smiling, but dimmed. “Thank you for playing me, Pete.”

“Anytime,” he said quietly.

She waved and said goodbye, then left the room. The two men stood there, staring at the door in silence, both stuck in their own thoughts. Ian inhaled the lingering scent of her.

“She hates me,” Pete said after a minute. 

Ian turned back to the table. “She doesn’t fucking hate you.”

“She does. You saw her.”

“I saw a young woman who, in the last three months, has had more life-changing events happen to her than most people see in a fucking decade. This is a brave new world for her. She’s got to get comfortable in it. It’s bound to take some time.”

“Since when are you the expert on my daughter?” Pete snapped.

Ian shrugged. “I’m not. It’s just fucking logic, Pete.” His best friend sighed and dragged his hand down his face in obvious frustration. “Give it some fucking time. She’ll come around eventually. You’ll see.”

“I hope so.”

He checked his watch. “I believe I’m going to head out, too. I’m on call, starting two hours ago. Need to get what sleep I can.”

Pete nodded. “Yeah. You do that.”

Ian put his cue back on the wall and pulled on his jacket, then walked towards the door, but he stopped and turned back before he got there.

“Hey, Pete?”

“Yeah?”

“About your question - you asked if Rose will be safe.”

“Yeah?”

He looked his best friend dead in the eye and put as much sincerity into his words as he could. “I’m going to do everything in my goddamn power to make sure that she is, and that she fucking stays that way.”

Pete nodded, glancing away. “Thanks.”

“Night, Pete.”

“Night, Ian.”

~*~O~*~

17 November 2011

Ian had had a delivery that put him late getting home, but thankfully, he wasn’t going to miss his show and have to watch it on the DVR. It just wasn’t the same as watching it live, somehow. 

He went to his bedroom and pulled off his work clothes, throwing on jeans and a jumper. It was too early for pyjamas, he thought, even though he’d be crashing not long after the end credits rolled. It had been a long day, and tomorrow was promising to be another one.

There wasn’t time to make a full dinner and he didn’t want to deal with the fucking dishes afterwards, anyway. To that end, he made a sandwich - a fucking masterpiece of a sandwich, if he did say so himself - then sat down at the table with a Vitex and some crisps. Once he was finished, he cleaned up what mess he’d made and went into the living room to turn on the telly in preparation for his show. Just as he was about to sit down, he heard his mobile ding from the kitchen. It was his message alert, not the ringtone of the answering service. He seriously considered just ignoring it - he wasn’t in the mood for a bunch of bullshit from Fergus right now - but curiosity got the better of him and he went into the kitchen to check it.

~Rose: _hey :)_

Ian felt something inside him quiver excitedly, then he chastised himself. She wasn’t even _here_ and she affected him like this. He had to get a grip. She was Pete’s _daughter_ , for fuck’s sake. Twenty-one years younger than him. His attraction to her was a bad idea, all around.

Still, he answered the text.

~Ian: _hi_  
~Rose: _are you watching the Yard tonight?_  
~Ian: _of course. never miss it._  
~Rose: _I’ve been trying to catch up on old episodes, but I haven’t gotten very far._  
~Ian: _where are you?_  
~Rose: _I’m almost to the end of series one. there are five series, right?_  
~Ian: _right_  
~Rose: _you’d think I’d be able to catch up quickly, what with having nothing to do lol_  
~Ian: _you’re new here. give yourself a little time to adjust._  
~Rose: _I guess you’re right_  
~Ian: _I think you’ll find that I usually am_  
~Rose: _cheeky._

He had no idea what to say to continue the conversation. He definitely _wanted_ to continue to talk to her, but how should he proceed?

The opening credits for the Yard rolled across his screen, and Ian plopped into his favorite armchair feeling sorry for himself that their texting seemed to have ended. He shouldn’t, he knew. Her being willing to talk to him at all was a boon that he should be grateful for. Honestly, he’d take what he could get. But he couldn’t help but want more of her.

_No_ , he snapped at himself. What was he thinking? _You’re being a fucking moron, Docherty._

His mobile went off on the arm of his chair, interrupting his self-flagellation. 

~Rose: _what did I miss? I went to get a drink._

His heart thudded in his chest, and he forgot everything he’d just told himself. 

~Ian: _the credits, mostly. I expect they’re about to find a body_  
~Rose: _isn’t that the usual progression of the show?_  
~Ian: _now who’s cheeky?_  
~Rose: _I think you’ll find that I usually am ;)_

Ian laughed right out loud, terribly amused that she’d turned his words around on him. That was another of her good points. She was quite clever.

The mobile remained silent for a few minutes while the show unfolded on the screen. As expected, the body of an elderly dowager countess was discovered and the two detectives that were the stars of the show were working the case. 

~Rose: _they’re a good match. complement each other_  
~Ian: _that they do. he’s an arsehole and she’s a kind person_

_Just like you and I,_ he thought. 

She didn’t say anything for a few minutes, then messaged him again.

~Rose: _who uses a candlestick as a weapon? I thought that was only in cluedo_  
~Ian: _whoever killed the countess does, apparently_  
~Rose: _good point_  
~Rose: _I just think I’d use something more likely to be effective on the first go._  
~Rose: _one good hit and bam! all done_  
~Ian: _that’s not fucking terrifying *at all*_  
~Rose: _ha! I’m safe as houses. it’s been weeks since I committed a felony_   
~Rose: _besides, there are no candlesticks around here that I know of_  
~Ian: _that’s reassuring. I feel safer now_  
~Rose: _good ;)_  
~Ian: _but if I see a candlestick in the lounge next time I’m at yours, I’m running like hell_  
~Rose: _hahaha!!_

Ian grinned, pleased with his cleverness, then went back to the show. The detectives did their interrogations.

~Ian: _I'm not liking the look of the butler._  
~Rose: _it's never the butler. He's just a red herring._  
~Ian: _you think so? His alibi seems pretty weak._  
~Rose: _were you listening when they questioned the maid? It's totally her._

Ian was in the middle of typing his response when a flashback showed the maid sneaking around in a place she wouldn't have been in if she was innocent.

~Rose: _Ha! Told ya._

Then the maid pulled a door open with great care to reveal the butler on the other side.

~Rose: _…_

He smirked and erased his incomplete message then started typing again.

~Rose: _You know, this was a lot easier when you were here. How about you come over next week at half six?_

Ian stared at the blinking cursor for a few seconds, stunned and unsure how to respond to that. Rose didn’t wait for him to gather his wits. 

~Rose: _we can order takeaway and watch the Yard, then maybe a couple of older episodes when it goes off. try to get me caught up, lol_

It was a bad idea. It was a fucking _terrible_ idea. He’d had a knack for self-preservation since his divorce, and every instinct he had told him that spending time around Rose Tyler when he was so absolutely mad for her could only result in disaster. Something like... Him falling deeper in love than he already was. Her becoming annoyed with his attentions and pushing him away. Pete coming after him with a hunting rifle. 

He could see no way that this would end well for him.

~Ian: _that sounds great. looking forward to it._

He put the mobile down on the arm of the chair and leaned his head back, pinching the bridge of his nose. It may not be the smartest thing he’d ever done, and it may actually turn out to be the _stupidest_ thing he’d ever done. But he was going to spend a few hours with Rose in seven days, and he couldn’t be sorry about that if he tried.


	11. Chapter 11

22 November 2011  
Week Thirteen

Ian checked his watch as he rounded the corner from the exam rooms to his office. He didn’t have any patients for the next ninety minutes, since he’d cleared his schedule two weeks ago so that he’d be able to attend Rose’s appointment with her - if she wanted. 

He really, really hoped she wanted. 

The intercom in his office went off, and even though he’d been expecting it - _hoping_ for it - the sudden sound still made him jump. He admonished himself to calm the fuck down, then slapped the button to answer. 

“Yeah, Margaret?”

“Miss Tyler is here.”

“Thanks.”

He got to his feet, taking a couple of breaths, then stepped out of his office, pulling the door closed behind him but not locking it. Clara would keep anyone out. 

Speaking of Clara… He ducked his head into the miniscule office that was hers - really, it was only a cubby with a desk - and spoke her name.

“Yeah, Doctor?”

“I’m out for a bit. Attending a friend’s appointment, then probably going to take lunch, depending on the time.”

“Okay.”

“Keep an eye on my office. I left it unlocked in case you need anything.”

“Thanks. Have a good lunch.”

“Will do.”

He made his way to the front of the building then opened the door of the lobby, poking his head out and calling for Rose. She appeared just a second later from around the corner, and he couldn’t help but smile when he saw her. Thankfully, she smiled back.

“Hi,” she said when she got close enough. 

“Hi yourself,” he answered, holding the door for her. “You seem much more chipper, compared to last time.”

“I am much more chipper,” she said, still smiling as she walked beside him but not looking at him at the moment. “I know now that my baby is okay, and I’m going to get to see it today.”

The smile slid off his face at once. “Oh...I’m sorry, Rose. One of us should have told you.”

She was looking at him with an interested expression now. “Told me what?”

“You won’t have a scan at every appointment. The vast majority of pregnant women only have two - one to check placement and viability, like you had two weeks ago, and then an anatomy scan at twenty weeks. Some high-risk women have more, but not all. If your pregnancy progresses normally, you’ll only need the twenty-week scan.”

Rose walked beside him until the end of the corridor, looking thoughtful, then spoke when they turned right. “Well, what _are_ appointments for, then?”

“We check your urine for proteins, get your weight, then palpate your uterus and listen for the baby’s heartbeat on the doppler.”

“I’m going to get to hear its heartbeat today?” she chirped, excited. 

His lips curled into a smile. It felt so fucking natural when she was around. “Yeah, you’ll hear its heartbeat.” 

Rose gave a tiny squeal and skipped a step excitedly. He laughed out loud, happy just to see her happy. One of the nurses gave him a strange look - he was not generally known for being the most jovial man - but he ignored her. 

Ian’s heart was beating double time when he asked. “Do you want me to stay with you today?”

“I thought you said a couple of weeks ago you were going to?”

“I made myself available to you, but you call the shots here. Whatever you want.”

“Yeah,” she said without much deliberation. “I’d like you to stay. I mean, Dr. Ross seems nice and everything, but I don’t know her. I _know_ you.”

He wasn’t sure what to think of that, but he smiled at her anyway. “Then I’ll be there.”

Once he got to Christine’s head nurse’s ‘office’, he introduced her to Rose, then left them so that Brandi could get her weight and urine specimen. He went to sit in the little waiting room closest to Christine’s exam rooms, waiting for Brandi to bring Rose around. He didn’t have to wait very long before the two women appeared. Christine came along just a minute later, calling them back. She gave Ian a look, which he thoroughly ignored. 

The appointment went off without a hitch. Rose reported that her nausea and fatigue was somewhat better, which fit with where she was in her pregnancy, and Christine used the doppler to fill the room with the baby’s heartbeat. It was strong and perfectly normal, and Ian relaxed a bit when he heard it. Rose turned her head and smiled at him, and he relaxed further. 

Finally Christine released Rose, telling her to make an appointment for two weeks. They both thanked her, then headed out. 

“Are you hungry?” he asked, more nervous than he had been in years. 

“I could eat,” Rose shrugged. 

“Would you want to grab lunch? There’s a little bistro about three blocks from here, their sandwiches are fucking divine.”

“Have they got chips?”

Ian’s brows knit in confusion. “I think so…”

She grinned. “Then sure. As long as there’s chips. Gotta eat, right?”

“That’s right,” Ian beamed. “I need to stop off by my office for a second, lock it up. Do you mind?”

“Not at all.”

He led her to his office, opening it and going in. “This won’t take but a minute.” He took off his lab coat and tossed it over the back of his chair, then bent down to close out the charts he’d forgotten before. He was almost done when Clara rounded the corner, her eyes on a chart, and came to a sudden stop when she saw Rose.

“Oh! I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had someone in your office,” she apologized.

Ian felt a prickle of dread. He hadn’t counted on this. “It’s alright. Clara, this is Rose Tyler. Rose, this is Clara Oswald, my head nurse.”

Rose extended her hand, smiling, and Clara shook it, mirroring the smile.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

“Rose is a new patient of Christine’s.” 

Clara dropped Rose’s hand and looked confused. “I thought Dr. Ross wasn’t taking new patients right now.”

“She’s not,” Ian answered, internally wishing that Clara would go the fuck away. “She did it as a favor to me.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Rose is a friend.”

He didn’t have to look at her to know that Clara was giving him _A Look_ , and he resolved to keep his eyes on his computer screen - even though he was done. 

“So! Rose! Are you from London?”

“Yes,” she started. “Although I went to school up north.”

“Oh? How far north? Scotland, perhaps? I hear there are good schools in Glasgow.”

Clara cut her eyes at Ian and he glared at her.

“No, not quite that far. A little private school in Northumberland.”

“I see. I don’t know much about the area, so I’ve probably never heard of it,” Clara conceded, then smiled brightly. “So how do you know the Doctor, then?”

Ian’s eyes flew to Rose. Her eyes were wide, her mouth hanging open a little. All of the color drained out of her face and in that quick moment, he saw her eyes get wet with tears.

“Rose’s father is my best friend. She’s a family friend,” he said, stepping to her side as quickly as possible. “Are you ready for lunch, Rose?” 

She looked up at him, still glassy-eyed, and blinked twice before putting on a plastic smile. “Yeah. I’m ready to go.”

Ian put his arm around Rose to guide her out before Clara could fuck things up any worse. “Clara, we’re going to Max’s. Ring if you need me. Otherwise, I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Alright,” Clara answered, sounding confused, then called over Ian’s shoulder, “It was nice to meet you, Rose!”

Rose turned around and gave a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Nice to meet you, too.”

Ian kept his arm around her shoulders, loosely, until he remembered that they were at his work and that probably wasn’t the best idea. He dropped his arm and his voice, saying, “I’m sorry about that.”

She didn’t look up. “S’fine.” 

“Are you alright?”

She nodded at the floor then looked up at him, giving him the same smile she’d given Clara. It hit like a physical blow, the knowledge that she felt the need to be false with him. “I’m fine,” she said brightly.

“You’re not,” he told her, “but that’s okay. Do you still want food?”

“I don’t --”

“You need to eat, Rose. And I swear we won’t talk about it. Besides, you wanted chips.”

Rose nodded, then gave him a genuine smile. It was small and weak, but it was real. “Yeah, okay. I can’t say no to chips.”

He gave her a relieved smile, then opened the door and held it for her when they stepped out on the pavement.

~*~O~*~

Rose laid on the bed in her bedroom in the mansion, staring up at the patterned ceiling. She’d been doing so well, had been adjusting to life here much better than she ever would have dreamed. The Doctor was gone, but she’d have part of him with her forever in the form of the baby she carried. It was a comfort, and she’d started to adjust to the idea of being a permanent citizen of Pete’s World. At least she still had Mickey and her mother.

Her mum had been wonderful. She seemed to know what Rose needed and then provided it, without question. It made sense, when she thought about it. Jackie had lost her husband and been left behind with a tiny baby. Rose had lost her… Doctor, and had been left behind with a baby-to-be. Of course her mum would have a fair idea of the grief Rose had felt, the terror, the loneliness - she’d experienced it all herself, first hand. 

Mickey was being less of an arse. That wasn’t to say he wasn’t still an arse, but he was being _less_ of one. His proposal - such as it’d been - was a really sweet gesture. He’d been willing to give up his life and freedom for her, to keep her good name and spare her the sideways looks and awkward questions. It was incredibly kind of him, and she was grateful. He’d hovered for a while, sure, but that seemed to have tapered off for the most part once he realized she was on the upswing and really was going to be okay. 

Dr. Ross was kind and seemed capable. Rose felt confident that she and her baby would be cared for quite well. It had been so cool hearing the baby’s heartbeat today, almost like a miracle. She supposed that really, when you got down to it, this baby _was_ a miracle. It shouldn’t have been able to happen. The Doctor had told her she had no reason to worry about birth control. She’d taken that to mean that he couldn’t get her pregnant. But here, alone in Pete’s World without him, she was damned glad he had been wrong.

All in all, her life here was good, and the only sour note was that the Doctor was gone. But she was learning to live with that. It was a fact of her life, just like being pregnant, and she’d have to cope. She was already starting to feel a little less… unsteady. 

Or at least she _had_ been. Then two little words from Clara rocked her to the foundation. 

Clara had asked a perfectly innocent question, she knew, with no intention of wounding Rose. There hadn’t been any malice in what she said - although she _had_ sensed that the other woman was digging for info about her. But when she’d asked how Rose knew _the Doctor_ , it had honestly felt like Clara had taken a blade and slashed her across the chest. She’d thought she’d gotten better about her reactions when talking about the Doctor, but she hadn’t been prepared to be blindsided. To her own credit, she recovered fairly quickly and was able to have a nice lunch with Ian. He watched her carefully all through their meal, which was sweet, but she’d been fine. 

Until she got back to the mansion and locked herself in her room. 

The crying was over now, and it hadn’t lasted as long as it once would have. In fact, it hadn’t lasted long at all. She was healing, she knew, and that was a good thing. But the healing, the letting go, hurt in its own way.

Poor Ian. Of everyone on this planet and everyone she could have befriended, it was Ian Docherty, Pete’s best friend, that she’d latched onto. He was kind. Funny. Oddly charming. Thoughtful. And he’d been a rock since she found out about the baby. True to his word, he’d been her friend, there for her whenever she needed him. He seemed to have been able to move past their kiss in the park fairly well, and she was glad. She didn’t know what she’d do without him in this pregnancy.

Speaking of Ian, it was Tuesday night. He should be downstairs playing pool with Pete. She weighed the pros and cons of going down and saying hello. Con: she’d be around Pete, and she generally avoided him. Pro: she’d be around Ian, and she was almost certain he’d make her smile. He usually did. Plus, she’d be able to prove to him that she really was alright. He’d looked skeptical over lunch and for some reason, it felt important to reassure him that she was okay. Her well-being seemed to really matter to him. Any friend would feel the same way, she supposed. 

Deciding that the good of seeing Ian canceled out the meh of seeing Pete, she went to the mirror, checked her appearance, then headed downstairs with a hint of a spring in her step. She heard the men’s voices before she got to the door, and considered turning back - she didn’t want to intrude on a private conversation. But she’d come this far, and she reminded herself that she _did_ want to see Ian. With that in mind, she rounded the corner, walking into the room. 

Pete was the first to notice her. “Rose!”

“Hi, Pete,” she said with a small smile. Then she looked to Ian. He was clearly happy to see her, but his eyes were worried, too. She gave him a bright smile to try and reassure him. 

“Hello, Ian.”

“Hello, Rose. Are you doing alright?” he asked, and the question was infused with meaning. 

“I’m better,” she said honestly. “Thank you for everything you did today.”

“It was my pleasure.” He looked relieved, and Rose was glad to have made him feel better. She didn’t want him to worry. 

“Did something happen?” Pete asked, looking back and forth between the two of them. 

Ian said, “nothing” at the same time Rose said, “it was nothing.” Ian shot her a glance, and Rose went on. “Ian’s head nurse referred to him as the Doctor and it caught me unprepared, is all.”

“Why would she do that?” Pete demanded. 

“It’s what she fucking calls me,” Ian snapped back. “She didn’t do it out of any malice. She’d fucking never.”

“It’s true,” Rose assured Pete quietly. “She didn’t mean anything by it. It was an accident, and something I’m going to have to get used to.” 

He looked back and forth between Ian and Rose, then sighed. “If you two say so. I just hate the thought of you being upset.”

She warmed to him slightly. Just slightly. “I’m fine. Really. Like I said, it caught me unprepared and I needed a minute to recover. Ian,” she said, smiling over at him, “got me out of there right away and took me to lunch. It was just what I needed to get my mind off it.”

Ian seemed to relax a little. “Good. I’m glad.”

Rose smiled at him, then came back to herself. “Anyway, I just came down here to say hello, and to let Ian know that I was alright.”

“I appreciate that,” he told her, then gestured to the table. “You’re more than welcome to stay. I’ll coach you again, if you like.”

“No,” she shook her head. “I think I’ll head to bed a little early. It’s been a long day.”

“Understandable,” Pete said. “Goodnight. Sleep well.”

“Goodnight, Rose,” Ian said. 

“Goodnight,” Rose answered, her smile mostly for Ian. She turned and left the room, feeling good that she’d accomplished what she’d set out to do and Ian wasn’t worried about her anymore. 

She was nearly to the stairs when she heard her name. Turning around, she spotted Ian jogging the last few steps to where she was.

“Did I forget something?”

Ian shook his head. “No, I just wanted to speak with you alone for a minute. I know you’re not that comfortable with Pete, I thought maybe you were holding back because he was there.”

Rose smiled. “No, I was telling the truth. I had a good cry when I got home, but it didn’t last long and I feel loads better now.” She flushed a little, looking down and away before she looked back at him. “I think a lot of that is thanks to you.”

His eyes widened and he straightened a little. “Thanks to me?”

“Yeah. You kept my mind off of it, kept me from falling apart. I really appreciate that.”

“You’re welcome,” he said in a low voice. Then he grinned. “Are you sure it wasn’t the chips?”

Rose giggled. “Well, the chips certainly helped.”

Ian chuckled, but didn’t say anything. The moment dragged a little, then he seemed to come to himself. “Ah, yes. I was going to ask you… you mentioned that you’re moving into the cottage?”

She nodded. “Yes, as long as it’s ready for me. The crews are almost done with the painting and minor renovations, and Mum and I went out to pick out furniture. It’ll be delivered on Wednesday of next week. So I’m thinking I can move in on Thursday.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You don’t want to wait until the weekend when you can get some fucking help?”

“There’s not much to do,” she defended herself. “I don’t have much in the way of possessions, just clothes and shoes. A couple trips across the garden with a couple big boxes, and I’ll be set.”

“Rose,” he started, and his brow furrowed. “What would it take to get you to wait until Saturday?”

“Why?”

“So I can carry that stuff for you.”

“I’m strong enough to carry it.”

“I don’t doubt that, but you really _shouldn’t_ carry it right now.”

It was a gentle reminder… she was pregnant, and couldn’t always do things the same way she always had. It was frustrating, but she wasn’t about to jeopardize her baby’s health or well-being to carry some shoes. 

“Okay,” she said with a small smile. “You’re right. I forget that I’m pregnant sometimes.”

“Easy to do, so early in the pregnancy. So I’ll come over next Saturday and move those boxes?”

“Sounds good. And I’ll buy lunch and maybe we can break in my new TV by watching a couple of back episodes of the Yard.”

Ian beamed. “Sounds good. I’m looking forward to it.”

She matched his smile. “Me, too.”

“I’d better get back before Pete sends out a search party.”

“Go,” she giggled. “See you here on Thursday for the Yard?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the fucking world.”

He turned and, with a wave over his shoulder, went back to the billiards room. Rose watched him go with a smile, grateful that she’d met him. 

It really was nice, she thought as she crawled into bed, to have someone to do things with - someone who was _not_ Mickey. Ian certainly seemed to be the best thing about this universe so far. Maybe it wouldn’t be the end of the world to be stuck here, after all. 

She drifted off to sleep, feeling peaceful and content for the first time in months, like everything really was going to be alright. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“ _...Rose..._ ”


	12. Chapter 12

24 November 2011

Ian loved getting to work early, when the office was quiet and no one was around. It was easier for him to think without all the distractions of ringing phones and bustling, gossiping nurses, and he typically got a lot of work done during the hour or so he occupied the office but no one else did. 

Lately, however, he’d been distracted during that time - well, during all hours, really, but the absolute quiet made it easier for his mind to wander to a certain blonde daughter of his best friend. And he really, _really_ needed to cut that shit out. Of all the women he knew - and he was a fucking gynecologist for fuck’s sake - she was the most off-limits to him. 

First, she was Pete’s daughter. Ian had a hard time wrapping his mind around that sometimes, considering she hadn’t existed in this universe until a couple of months ago and he’d never played ‘Uncle Ian’, but still. The fact remained that she was his best friend’s daughter and it would likely cause all manner of tension if he were to try to date her - again. 

Second, she was twenty-one years younger than him. He remembered being in his early twenties all too well, when the girls were interested in the pursuit more than the capture and dizzying in their shifting romantic interests. He didn’t want any of that bullshit in his life, ta. Didn’t have time for it. Now here was Rose, twenty-four years old, and he was ready to follow her around wherever she led, good sense be damned. Granted, she didn’t seem to be anything like other girls her age, but that didn’t change the fact that she _was_ her age. 

Last, she was pregnant. And not just pregnant, she was pregnant with the baby of a fucking alien - as hard as that was to believe. This Doctor fucker was gone (thank fuck), and Ian’s understanding from Pete was that the walls to the universe had closed and there would be no more traveling between universes - for Rose _or_ this Doctor twat. And even if they were open, it would be incredibly dangerous for Rose to attempt to do so. 

But that didn’t change the fact that she was not just pregnant by him, she was in fucking love with him.

Any one of these factors should have been enough to send him running like hell in the other direction. Any one of them translated to nothing but heartache for him if he got too attached to her, and he’d be a damn fool to invite that into his life. 

Ian Docherty was a damn fool.

~Ian: _I’m thinking curry tonight. Will that bother your stomach?_  
~Ian: _Just let me know what you want, I’ll pick it up on the way_

He put his mobile down and reviewed medical records while he waited for the ping that would indicate the arrival of Rose’s response, but an hour passed in a blink and he still hadn’t received one. She was usually good about returning his messages quickly, so, confused, he picked up the mobile and checked the message. It had sent successfully, and his mobile signal was strong. Perhaps it was still too early and she was sleeping. She _was_ pregnant, after all.

When his mobile did go off he reached for it immediately.

~Joan: _Haven’t seen you in a while. Drinks at the Pilot this weekend?_

As soon as he read the text his stomach went cold. Joan Redfern was a nurse on labor and delivery who was a lot like him in that she took her job very seriously. They’d worked together for over a decade, got on well, and had casually dated for a while. And though their relationship had ended amicably years earlier, neither of them was above occasionally texting the other for dinner or drinks and... whatever else might develop after.

It wasn’t _romantic_ , though he knew Joan would gladly have accepted anything more he was willing to offer her. It was simply two people, one divorced and the other widowed, resigned to being alone, who were using each other to stave off actual loneliness. It also had the added benefit of being far safer and less complicated than picking up a stranger in a bar.

But he hadn’t seen her outside of the hospital since either late July or early August - since before he’d met Rose. He’d hardly even thought about her in that time. And while Ian knew he should have no qualms agreeing to meet her, he couldn’t bring himself to.

~Ian: _Maybe. I’ll have to get back to you._

When he left to go do hospital rounds, he put his mobile in his trouser pocket instead of the pocket of his lab coat so that should Rose reply, he wouldn’t miss the vibrations. He knew that it would be incredibly unprofessional to take a call or text while with a patient and told himself he’d never do such a thing - even while a nagging little voice said that for Rose, he might. 

But she still hadn’t called or texted when he went back to the office an hour later to see his patients there. He somehow managed to make it through to lunch before he went to his office and sat behind his desk, staring at his quiet mobile. He didn’t feel like eating - his stomach was churning - so he instead spent the time continuing to review records, trying to distract himself.

His mobile had been silent so long that day, the sound of it ringing late that afternoon nearly made him jump out of his skin. A glance at the name on the screen, however, had him smiling.

“About fucking time,” he teased when he answered. “Where have you been?”

“Ian.” 

It was Jackie - not Rose - and the bottom of his stomach fell out at the utterly _broken_ tone of her voice. In that moment he knew - _knew_ \- beyond a shadow of a doubt that Rose had lost the baby, and the pieces of his heart joined his stomach on the floor.

“Is she alright?” he managed.

“She’s fine. We’re all fine. But there’s been a… development with the Doctor. She could really use a friend right now.”

_The Doctor_ , she’d said, not Rose or the baby, and he was able to take a shuddering breath, though internally he was cursing the alien who could cause so much pain from an entire universe away.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Thanks, love.”

“CLARA!” he yelled as he hit the end call button and stood up from his desk. She came skidding into the room at the same time he grabbed his jacket from the coat rack and pulled it on. “I have to go. See if one of the others can take everything I’ve got for the rest of the day… and tomorrow, too, just in case.”

“Everything?”

“Everything. If none of them can do it, just call the patients and reschedule them. I’ve got a... family emergency.”

“But --” she started, but Ian hurried out of the door too quickly for her to ask about Auntie Grace or Fergus. He didn’t want to lie and besides, he didn’t have the time to stop. He had somewhere to fucking be just then.

It was entirely possible he broke a land speed record driving from his office to the Tyler mansion. He also _may_ have jumped out of the car before it stopped rolling. Fuck if he knew - or cared. His only thought was to get to Rose.

He burst into the mansion and looked around, but there was no one to see. When he was on his way to the lounge, one of the maids stepped out of the parlor.

“Where’s Rose?”

“Upstairs, I think,” she replied, shying back from him a bit. The girl was new, so apparently his reputation had preceded him.

“Ian, oh good,” Jackie said from where she’d appeared in the doorway of the parlor and he turned to her, not noticing when the maid slipped by him.

“Where is she?”

“Turn right at the top of the stairs, first door.”

He took the stairs two at a time and was reaching out for the door handle when he stopped himself. Then, after taking a deep breath, he knocked.

“Go away, Mum,” he heard from inside the room.

Opening the door, he leaned against the jamb, affecting a casual air that betrayed nothing of his heart pounding in his chest and the overwhelming relief he felt simply at the sight of her. “That’s rather fucking insulting, you know.”

Rose looked up from where she sat in a chair by the window and he took heart from the small but wan smile on her lips.

“You insult far too easily. I wouldn’t have thought your ego would be so fragile.”

“I am Scottish. I can complain about things.” He stepped into the room and moved slowly towards her. “Besides, you mistook me for your fucking _mother_. I think I have a right.”

“She rang you?”

“Yeah.” He was close enough now to see the tear tracks on her face and the redness of her eyes. She was almost in the foetal position, her feet on the chair and her knees near her chin, her hands moving absently, adjusting first one sleeve of her hoodie and then the other over and over in the space between. “She didn’t tell me what happened, though.”

Rose looked out the window instead of answering him and he ached at the sight of fresh tears spilling onto her cheeks. If he ever met this Doctor wanker, he was going to give him what Scotsmen affectionately referred to as a ‘Glasgow kiss’.

“Can I sit?”

She gestured at the chair opposite her but didn’t speak. Ian sat and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his legs. The position put his hands inches away from Rose, but the gulf between them felt much wider. She was quiet for a long while, and he just waited her out. Finally, she spoke.

“I had a dream. I heard a voice and it was calling my name. It was pulling me to him. And that night, we packed up, got into Pete's old Jeep and off we went. Just like the dream said. Followed the voice across the water. Kept on driving hundreds and hundreds of miles, because he was calling. We ended up on a beach in Norway and there he was. A hologram. To say goodbye.”

Ian inhaled sharply. Rose glanced at him and then looked back out the window.

“I didn’t tell him about the baby. Started to, then chickened out and said it was mum instead.”

As much as he was amused by the idea of Pete and Jackie having a baby, Ian didn’t dare laugh. “Are you okay?”

Rose sniffed, but she was nodding. “It was the right thing to do. He’d been a father once, long before I met him. There was a war. He was the only survivor, like, of his entire race, the only one. I couldn’t take that away from him again.”

“Right thing to do or not, are you okay?”

She started to nod but then her face crumbled as she began to cry again. Ian slid out of the chair, landing on his knees in front of her, and opened his arms. “C’mere.”

It was the only encouragement she needed. She barely managed to avoid kicking him as she moved her legs out of the way, but then she fell into him and he wrapped his arms around her, lowering his face so that their cheeks were touching.

Time stopped. A fucking atom bomb could have gone off outside of the room and he wouldn’t have cared. The only thing that mattered was Rose, holding her, letting her take what comfort from him she needed. 

Her body shuddered with each wracking sob and he ached, feeling her pain as his own.

~*~O~*~

Ian had decided before he’d even gotten there that he would let her set the terms of this evening and not push her into anything she wasn’t ready for. But when she made no move to get off of the floor after her sobs had died down and his back started to hurt, he gently encouraged her to scoot over a couple of feet so that they could rest their backs against the wall. She went without any argument, and they sat there, under the window, watching the shadows get longer.

“This universe is different from my home,” she said. 

“Oh? How so?”

“Some of the countries have different names or whatever, for example. And in the London I’m from, the poor sections of town aren’t kept under guard. I think it's barbaric that you lot do it.”

“I do too, actually,” Ian said quietly. 

Rose turned her head to look at him with red-rimmed, puffy eyes. “You do?”

“Of course. People are people, no matter their economic situation. They deserve to be treated with some fucking respect, not like minimum-security prisoners.”

She was looking at him oddly, and he didn’t _think_ he’d said anything offensive just then - he’d been agreeing with her - but then again, he wasn’t always aware when he was being offensive. 

Deciding to change the subject, he said, “Tell me more about your Earth. Is Great Britain still Great Britain?”

She nodded. “Yeah. But we still have a monarchy.”

Ian gaped at her. “You don’t.”

“It’s true. It’s a constitutional monarchy, but still a monarchy. Queen Elizabeth II has been reigning since 1953. Her son, Prince Charles, is next in line for the throne. After that, it’s Prince William.”

“Blimey,” he marvelled. 

“As a result, we have a prime minister and not a president. Other countries have presidents, though. The US has a president.”

“The US?”

“United States.” Ian looked at her blankly. “Of America.”

“Oh! America! The colonies!”

Rose scoffed. “They’re not colonies where I’m from.”

“Nor here either, not for the last seventy-five years or so. But they still get all riled up if you call them colonies, which is just fucking _fun_. Their official name is the American Territories.”

Her brow furrowed and she looked thoughtful, staring off into the middle distance. “That’s not how it happened where I’m from. The colonies fought for independence sometime in the 1700’s, I don’t remember exactly when.”

Ian decided to take a risk. “Well, your universe is fucking weird.”

Thankfully, she smiled. “Maybe so, but I’m going home to it.”

He narrowed his eyes at her a little. “I thought you said the Doctor said the walls were closed.”

“That _is_ what he said. But he was always pulling off some rescue or something that he’d said just five minutes before was impossible. Remind me to tell you sometime about satan and the black hole.”

“The fuck did you say?”

She ignored him. “But even if he can’t, _I can_. Torchwood is already working on the hoppers, to make them work again. When they’re working, I’ll go home.” Her smile this time was a little wistful. “He always said I ate impossible for breakfast. Being told I can’t do something is basically daring me to do it. And he knows it, too.”

“You’re going to jump between universes, even when you’re pregnant?”

Before she could answer, his stomach growled audibly and she looked over at him with a weak smile. “You should eat.”

“I’m fine here. When’s the last time _you_ ate?”

Rose shrugged. “Yesterday, sometime. On the way to Norway.”

Ian was absolutely horrified. “Tell me you’ve at least had some fucking water.”

“A bit,” she answered blithely, and he did everything in his power not to react too strongly. She couldn’t fucking _do_ that! It wasn’t just dangerous for the baby, it was dangerous for her!

Throwing out his resolve not to push her but still trying to be as delicate as possible, he said, “You should eat something, Rose.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Even if you’re not hungry, it’s dangerous to go without food. The baby _needs_ the nutrients, and dehydration is dangerous - for you and that little girl.”

Rose didn’t react the way she typically did to his ribbing. Instead, she dropped her head and Ian saw tears falling. 

“I don’t want to leave this room, to face anyone. I don’t think I could stand their pity.”

Thinking fast, he asked, “If I get you the food, will you eat it?”

She looked up then, a little alarmed. “Please don’t leave me.”

Ian melted. “I’m not going to leave you, Rose. I’ll stay as long as you want me to, for however long you need me.” She nodded acceptance of this, tears streaming down her face again, and he longed to wipe them away but she employed the sleeve of her hoodie instead. “I don’t have to leave the room to get some food, though. Tell me what you want to eat.”

“I honestly don’t _want_ anything.”

“Okay, tell me what you think you _could_ eat.”

She didn’t say anything for a while, but he didn’t wait very long this time before he prodded her. The clock was ticking, and she needed to eat - soon.

“How about sandwiches?” he suggested. “We’ll have some sandwiches and tea. I’m sure there are a couple of stupid hats around here somewhere. Our own little tea party, eh?”

Rose huffed, then sniffed. “I don’t think I’m up for a tea party.”

“Then we’ll skip the stupid fucking hats and go right for sandwiches and tea.”

He was gratified to see the small smile. “Yeah, alright.”

Without delaying even a second, he texted Pete.

~Ian: _Rose needs to eat but doesn’t want to see anyone._  
~Pete: _why not?_  
~Ian: _she just doesn’t. can you send up a tray of sandwiches and drinks?_  
~Ian: _maybe some fucking crisps or something?_  
~Pete: _should Jackie bring it up? or Mickey?_  
~Ian: _no, and if they do, I’m not fucking letting them in. she wants to be alone_  
~Pete: _ok_  
~Ian: _she hasn’t eaten in over 24hrs. Please hurry._  
~Pete: _on it_

“Food will be here shortly,” he told her.

“Who did you text?”

“Pete.”

Her eyes were wide when she looked up at him, alarmed. “I don’t want to see anyone!”

Ian held up his hands in a placating manner. “I know. I know. I told them you didn’t, and that if one of them tried to come up here, I wouldn’t fucking let them in. You don’t have to see anyone you don’t want to, alright?”

She eyed him warily, then seemed to decide to trust him. She nodded and settled back down. 

“How long are you gonna stay with me?” she asked in a tone that was just above a whisper.

_Forever._

“Tonight, I mean,” she amended.

“I’ll stay until you fall asleep. How about that?”

“What about tomorrow? Will you come back?” He opened his mouth but she shook her head. “Nevermind. That was really selfish of me. I forgot that you have work tomorrow.”

“I don’t, actually,” he said calmly, hoping the nerves underneath didn’t shine through. “When your mum called, I covered the rest of today and tomorrow, too. So I’m free.”

“You’ll be here?”

“I’ll stay right with you. Well,” he said with a little grin, “maybe the occasional loo break.”

She giggled and although it was small and weak, it was genuine and magical, too.

The sandwiches came, and Ian was pleased to see that they were brought by a maid. He still didn’t let her in, however, taking the tray from her and thanking her before closing the door with his foot. 

They ate picnic-style, cross-legged in the floor, and Ian was able to make her laugh a couple more times when he told her tales of his adventures with his cousin, Fergus, as a boy in Scotland. They had finished eating and were back to leaning against the wall, each of them popping grapes in their mouths as dessert, neither of them really talking. Ian started weighing the logistics of sleeping in the armchairs in front of them - if she even wanted him to stay. 

As if she’d read his mind, she said, “Are you going home when I fall asleep?” 

“I don’t have to,” he told her. “I can stay here in one of the guest rooms, or I can sleep right here in this chair so I’m on hand in case you need me in the night.”

She shook her head. “No, I won’t make you sleep in a chair. That’s not fair.”

“I don’t mind, Rose. And I’ve slept in worse places, believe me.”

“Pete won’t mind if you spend the night?”

“Not at all. I stay from time to time. There’s even a bedroom here I use most often when I do. We’ve jokingly called it my room.”

“I just…” She stopped, and he sensed that she was building up the nerve to say something. “I feel better when you’re around. Safer.”

Well. There was no fucking way in hell any forces on the planet could remove him from Pete’s mansion after she said _that_ , and he dared them to fucking try.

“Then I won’t leave. My room is two doors down on the left. I’m going to go talk to your mum and Pete to let them know you’re okay, then I’m going to go sleep there. If you need me, come get me.”

“Want to watch The Yard?” she asked, taking him off guard.

“Do I --”

“Want to watch The Yard, yeah. It comes on in five minutes.”

Ian peered at her. “Are you up for that?”

“I think I need something to keep my mind occupied. Plus,” she gave him a small, sheepish grin, “it’s a way to guarantee that you stay with me.”

He snorted, delighted by the teasing. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Come on, then,” she said, proving her youth by jumping to her feet while Ian took a second longer. 

“Where are we going?”

“To the bed. It faces the TV.”

Scads of fantasies involving Rose and the bed played behind his eyes in an instant, but he shut them all down. She didn’t think of him like that, and he wasn’t willing to damage her trust in him by being a lecherous old bastard. 

Rose climbed up onto the bed, stacking pillows until she could lay back on them comfortably. Ian followed her lead, making damn sure to leave a couple feet of space between them. The opening theme played, and he looked over at her. She genuinely seemed better, more at peace, than she had when he’d arrived several hours ago. He couldn’t help but be proud of that. 

They chatted back and forth for a while, sometimes marked by long stretches of quiet, until Ian asked, “So what do you say? The barmaid or the patron?” She didn’t answer. “Rose? You alright?” He raised up a little to see that Rose had fallen asleep, her head lolled to the side, her chest rising and falling gently. He watched her for just a minute, appreciating just how fucking beautiful she was, then gently slid off his side of the bed. 

She seemed to be sleeping deeply and didn’t wake when he pulled her shoes off and laid a thick blanket overtop of her. She’d sleep in her jeans, but there was nothing he could do about that. He certainly wasn’t willing to change her out of them. 

Satisfied that she was comfortable and sleeping soundly, he refrained from kissing her hair with great effort and left the room to go downstairs and talk to Pete and Jackie before he went to his room, as he’d promised.


	13. Chapter 13

_Hold on to me tonight, hold on, I promise it’ll be alright_

_‘Cause we are stronger here together than we could ever be alone_

_Just hold on to me, don’t you ever let me go_

_Hold on to me, it’s gonna be alright, hold on to me tonight._

~Michael Buble - Hold On

25 November 2011

Rose opened the door to her room and looked both ways up and down the hall. She felt like a teenager trying to sneak out to a boy’s house and, well, she supposed she was, in a way. But she wasn’t ready to face anyone just yet… anyone who wasn’t Ian. She didn’t bother to question why he felt safe when no one else did just yet.

Satisfied that the corridor was clear, she dashed across the hall and two doors down to the room Ian had told her was his when he stayed at the mansion. She knocked on the door lightly, hoping that it was loud enough to get his attention but not loud enough to be heard elsewhere in the house. 

A groggy, “Yeah?” came from the other side of the door. Rose was afraid to call out to announce who she was and, well, she figured he was a close enough friend that he’d forgive her if she overstepped her bounds. She opened the door and stepped through, closing it behind her. This room was on the west side of the house, so the light wasn’t streaming through the windows the way it did in Rose’s room and it was a bit darker. She wasn’t able to see as well as she likely would have in her own room, so she called out Ian’s name.

“Yeah. I’m up.”

Ian sat up on the side of the bed, running his fingers through his hair absently. It was sticking up in all directions and Rose grinned a little: it was terribly endearing.

She didn’t _say_ that, of course. Instead, “Sorry to have woken you.”

“No, no. It’s fine. I intended for you to wake me. Are you alright?”

At once, the reason for him being there washed over her again, and she felt her eyes well. “I’m fine,” she lied. 

He looked at her shrewdly - especially for so early in the morning. “You’re not, but that’s okay. You’re not supposed to be right now.” She wanted to say something, but he let out a yawn so big she worried it may dislocate his jaw. “I need some fucking coffee.”

“You slept in your clothes?” Rose asked, glancing him over. All he’d taken off were his shoes and glasses. 

Ian looked down as if a bit surprised by what he saw. “Oh. Yeah. I don’t exactly keep pyjamas at your - at Pete’s house, but that’s fine. I’m a doctor that keeps weird hours. I’ve slept in some fucking ridiculous places.”

Rose chuckled, thinking of her adventures with the Doctor. “I can empathize.”

“Have you eaten breakfast?” 

She shook her head. “No. I came straight over here as soon as I was up.” Feeling sheepish, she ducked her head. “I hope that’s alright.”

“Of course it’s alright. I told you, that’s why I’m here.” He yawned again and clambered to his feet. “Do you want to go downstairs for breakfast?”

She should. She knew she should. But she shook her head. “I’m just...not quite ready yet. I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for. But we still have to eat. Why don’t you make yourself comfortable and decide what you’d like. I’m going to the loo, get rid of this fucking morning breath, and when I come back, we’ll text Pete for breakfast. Yeah?”

His thoughtfulness was touching, and she bit her lip. “Yeah. I think that’d be good.”

While he was gone, she went to the bed, pulled the covers up so they were semi-flat on the bed, and then climbed up to have a seat, waiting for Ian. He came out of the en suite and looked around, his eyes darting around the room. “Rose?”

“I’m here,” she said, getting his attention. He looked over at her and his eyes widened a bit. Panicking a little that she may have actually overstepped her bounds this time, she started to get off the bed. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking, I’ll --”

“You’re fine, Rose. It’s fine.” Ian hesitated for just a second, an almost imperceptible pause, then grabbed his mobile from the nightstand and unlocked it while crawling up onto the bed where he’d slept, resting his back against the headboard. He didn’t look at her, though, and she tilted her head to the side a little, wondering why. 

“What do you want for breakfast? Full English?”

Rose snorted. “No, I’d be happy with some toast.”

Ian finally looked at her, his eyes narrowed. “You have to have more than that.”

“I don’t _want_ more than that.”

“Rose, I may not be _your_ doctor, but I’m _a_ doctor. I can’t let you just eat toast.”

She felt tears threatening and he must have noticed, because he looked horrified for a second before he blinked it away, smiled, and gentled his tone. “How about fruit? Hmm? If I order dry white toast and fruit, will you at least eat _some_ of it?”

It was a compromise he was offering her and she knew it. She honestly wasn’t sure she could stomach anything but the toast, but Ian had been so sweet to her. So supportive. She was willing to try, for him.

Rose gave him a weak smile and nodded. “Yeah. I’ll eat some fruit.”

He looked relieved and she felt good, having done something to make someone happy. 

Ian sent the text and the two of them chatted while they waited. He seemed to be testing the waters somewhat, gauging what she was up for and what she wasn’t. When the knock sounded at the door a few minutes later, he told her to stay still while he went to get the food. She did as instructed, and just a couple minutes later, he came back to the bed with a large tray piled high with toast, four individual-sized bottles of orange juice, and a fruit bowl. He grinned at her, setting the tray down in the middle of the bed, then hopped right back into his spot, plucking a triangle of toast from the pile, taking a huge bite and grinning at her from around it. 

His smile was infectious and she couldn’t help but smile back at him. He nodded towards the tray. “Go on, then.”

Rose rolled her eyes a little but reached over and grabbed a piece of toast, biting the corner of it. He looked pleased and again, she was glad to have made him happy.

“You can help yourself to the fruit,” he said once he’d swallowed. “I’ll take what you don’t like.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Rose argued lightly. “There’s plenty for both of us.”

“Yes, but you need it more. And what you choose is often partially dictated by what your body needs and is craving.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Huh.” She considered him for a second, then looked towards the fruit bowl reaching to pick something she selected. It was filled with grapes, strawberries, and some small nectarines. But her gaze was arrested by the bananas and pears there, and she felt tears welling up at the sight of the Doctor’s favorite and least favorite fruit. She did her best not to cry, but wasn’t helped by the little jar of marmalade she hadn’t spotted before. Withdrawing her hand, she let it curl in her lap and hung her head. 

“Rose? What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit. Something has made you cry. What’s wrong?”

She sniffled, swiping her eyes but not looking up. “It’s just...the Doctor really likes bananas and marmalade, is all.”

“Together?”

Rose huffed a watery laugh. “No, not together, surprisingly.”

“Well that’s a fucking relief.”

She knew he was trying for levity, but wasn’t up for joking right then. “Am I always going to be like this? Crying whenever I see something that reminds me of him?”

“No,” he said in a lower, more reassuring voice. “It won’t always be this raw. Over time, you’ll start seeing things that remind you of him and it’ll hurt, but not like it does now. And then, after that, when you see things like bananas, it’ll be bittersweet. Eventually, you’ll either not think about it, or you’ll smile when you do.”

“I can’t imagine,” she murmured. 

They were both quiet for a few minutes, lost in their own thoughts, and Ian said, “Of course, you won’t have to worry with the healing so much, since you’re going back home.”

Rose winced internally. She desperately wanted to go home, yes, but knew, realistically, that she wouldn’t be jumping from universe to universe with a baby strapped to her chest. She wasn’t sure why she’d told Ian that the night before, especially when she knew in her heart it wasn’t true. Looking at him now as he contemplated the bottle of orange juice in his hand, she considered telling him the truth. But she couldn’t. Saying out loud that she was staying would feel like speaking it into being. As ridiculous as that seemed, she was unwilling to do such a thing. She just wasn’t ready. 

“Anyway,” Ian said with what sounded like false cheer. “If you think you possibly can, it would be good for you to eat a banana every now and then. They’re high in --”

“Potassium. I know. The Doctor was always on about it.”

“Er, right.” There was an almost defeated tone to his voice, and guilt battered her for putting it there. He brightened a little. “There are other things here, though. Strawberries and nectarines and grapes and…” he trailed off for a second, then said almost skeptically, “and pears.”

“You don’t like pears?” Rose asked, intrigued. 

“They’re good for you,” he hedged.

She couldn’t help but grin a little. “But you don’t like them.”

Ian looked like he was debating with himself, then said. “No. They’re too squishy and make your chin all wet.”

Without her permission, Rose’s mind went straight to the gutter, and she had to bite her lip to keep from giggling, looking away from him. Before she could think of anything to say, he spoke again with the same false cheer. “So! You missed most of The Yard last night. I think it may be DVR’d downstairs. Would you want to go watch?”

That sobered her up, and she bit her lip again - this time as an anxious gesture. Her mother was only going to let her hide out in her room for so long before she marched up and dragged her out, kicking and screaming. Jackie Tyler did not believe in moping, said it accomplished nothing - and she was right. Rose knew that. But she also felt very… unsteady, although Ian’s presence was helping with that a great deal. Honestly, she felt she could do it, if he would be with her.

“Will you stay with me?” she asked quietly.

He gave her a small half-smile, and she took in the way the angles of his face softened. In another life, maybe…

“I’ll stay as long as you need me, Rose. I don’t have to be at work until Monday morning, and I’ll be glad to stay here all fucking weekend if you’d like. Although I will probably slip off to grab a change of clothes at some point. Otherwise, my clothes may be able to fucking walk by themselves after five days.”

She giggled a little, grateful that this man was able to make her feel good even when she felt wretched. 

“Yeah, okay,” she said, giving a little nod and a smile. “I’ll go downstairs with you. But you promise you won’t leave me?”

“I fucking swear,” he told her with a small smile. “Now. Let’s eat.”

~*~O~*~

Rose was unsurprised to see her mother practically pacing at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for her. She stopped, fighting the impulse to turn and run back up, but Ian put his hand at the small of her back and nodded encouragingly. She knew that hugging her mother, accepting that comfort would make her cry and she was dreading it. For a few precious hours, she’d been able to forget about the Doctor and the fact that she’d never see him again because Ian had been there, keeping her mind off of it. But her mother, bless, would do no such thing.

She was proven right when Jackie opened her arms to Rose, her eyes wet, and Rose was crying even before she dashed down the last couple of steps and flew into her mother’s embrace. The tears fell, just as they had been for the last day and a half, but she was able to pull herself together fairly quickly.

“You alright, sweetheart?” Jackie asked, putting her hand on her daughter’s cheek.

Rose nodded. “As alright as anyone could possibly expect me to be, which isn’t saying much. But eventually I’ll be fine.” 

Jackie gave her a little smile. “Of course you will. You’re my daughter. Tyler women can survive anything, can’t we?”

Rose had serious doubts in that moment, but she nodded bravely anyway.

“So!” Jackie said, sounding genuinely cheerful. “You’ve finally released Ian?”

Before Rose could argue that she’d hardly been keeping him prisoner, Ian spoke up. “We came downstairs to watch The Yard. Rose was too tired last night to watch.”

Jackie gave each of them an assessing look, then nodded and patted Rose’s cheek. “Whatever you need to do, sweetheart. Lunch will be ready when your show goes off.”

“Oh, I don’t --” She stopped when she caught sight of Ian giving her A Look, and she sighed. “Yeah, Mum. Lunch will be great.”

“C’mon, Rose,” Ian said from just beside her, once again putting his hand on the small of her back to guide her. The two went into the lounge and to the couch. Rose sat in one corner, curling one leg under her and pulling the other knee to her chest, crossing it over the other leg. Ian gave her an odd look, but didn’t say anything. He grabbed the remote and got everything queued up, then turned to Rose. “Are you ready?”

She nodded, smiling, feeling a little bit better now that her mum wasn’t around and it was just Ian again. 

The two of them bantered back and forth about the episode as they always did, and the normalcy of it felt good. For the first time since she’d gone to bed Tuesday night, she felt relaxed. Comfortable. They joked about how they should pop popcorn for the next episode, but Rose pointed out with a smile that they would most likely end up tossing it at each other instead of eating it and then the maid would kill them. Ian laughed, but agreed.

After a few episodes (and Rose had been proven right in her deductions more often than not), Ian turned the telly off. “Ready for lunch?”

At once, the apprehension and anxiety she’d been fighting roared back to life. He must have seen it because he reached over and laid his hand on her knee in a soothing gesture, then pulled it off quickly. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, except eat and drink. If you want to go back to your room to do that, we’ll go back up. Whatever you want or need, okay?”

Rose nodded, grateful, and immediately feeling much better. If she had to face this, at least she wouldn’t face it alone. Ian had said that he would stay with her, and she believed him. This brave new world didn’t seem so scary with him beside her.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, not looking up at him. “For being my friend.”

“Why the fuck would you need to thank me for being a friend?”

“You’ve gone way above and beyond what anyone could possibly expect any friend to do. I just wanted you to know that I appreciate you.”

Ian was quiet for a second. “You’re welcome. It’s been my pleasure.”

She scoffed. “Can’t have been a pleasure to sleep in your clothes. I never liked it.”

“When did you have occasion to sleep in your clothes?” he asked with a raised brow. 

“With the Doctor,” she said simply, not looking at him. “He had a knack for finding trouble everywhere we went, and we got arrested on about half of the planets we went to, it seemed. He always busted us out somehow but there were many nights on little cots or pallets in the corner, wearing what we’d been arrested in.” She snorted a little. “A far cry from being at home, in the TARDIS, with my pink blanket.”

“Pink blanket?”

Rose nodded. “The Doctor bought it for me on the planet Ram after I complained of being cold one night not long after I came on board. It was made from the wool of… some kind of alien sheep, I don’t remember what he said. But it was _really_ soft and _really_ warm.” She sighed a little, feeling sad but nostalgic. “I’m gonna miss that blanket.” Tears threatened to overtake her again, and she did her best to fend them off.

Ian must have sensed her distress, because he changed the subject and asked her, “So you went to lots of different planets?”

Rose nodded, giving a wistful smile. “Scads of planets. Most of them inhabited, some of them not.”

“How did you travel? A spaceship? The Tar...” He tapered off, sounding uncertain.

“The TARDIS. That’s Time And Relative Dimension In Space. She looks like a police call box, but she’s bigger on the inside.”

Ian looked at her carefully. “You’re talking like she’s a living thing.”

“She’s semi-sentient. Which was funny, because she seemed to enjoy giving the Doctor fits. The two of them would spat like lovers.” It occurred to her that she was smiling, and that it felt good.

He was quiet for a second, and Rose wondered what he was thinking. Most likely he didn’t believe her, or thought she needed to be sectioned. Before she could open her mouth to swear that all of this was true, he said, “So tell me about these planets, these places you went to. What were they like?”

“Every one of them was absolutely beautiful in its own way. They all looked very different, though. We rarely went to a planet that looked like Earth, and if it _did_ look like Earth there were marked differences. Like applegrass.”

“Applegrass?”

She nodded. “Grass that smells like apples.”

Ian nodded. “I see.”

"We went to this one planet where the sky was purple and the grass was yellow. And I know grass turns yellow when it dries out here, on Earth, but this was just different. I wish you could have seen it." 

"Sounds… interesting," Ian said noncommittally. She looked over at him, and he had an odd look on his face, like he was struggling to believe. She didn’t blame him. 

"I know you think I’m off my rocker, but I promise: These things happened."

"It’s not that I don’t believe you, it’s just that it’s a hell of a lot to wrap my head around. I can’t picture purple sky and yellow grass."

“I could paint it for you,” she volunteered. 

Ian raised a brow. “You paint?”

She nodded. “I’m actually pretty good. And it would give me something to do.”

“Yeah, alright,” he said. “Go ahead and paint them. I’ll be interested to see what you’re talking about.”

"So you don’t think I’m lying?" For some reason, the answer to that question was very important to her. She couldn’t explain why, but she _wanted_ his faith.

Ian sighed. "No. I don’t think you’re fucking lying. It just feels...I dunno. Like you stepped out of a sci-fi novel or some shit, and I’m trying to make sense of space travel in a fucking police box."

"It also travels in time," she said, unable to help the small, wistful smile she always got when she thought of her first Doctor.

"You traveled in fucking _time_ , too?"

Rose nodded. "On my second trip, I met Charles Dickens."

"You’re shitting me."

"Nope. It’s all true. Kissed his cheek and he got flustered. Called me ‘modern’."

He snorted, shaking his head, and Rose decided to stop right there, before he _did_ decide she was insane. The absolute last thing she wanted was for him to run away from her. 

“Ian?”

“Yeah?”

Her lip wobbled, but for the first time, it wasn’t about grief. “Will you stay with me a little longer? I’m not… I’m not ready to face everybody on my own, but I think I can do it if you’re with me.”

Ian’s face lost its hard lines, softening into an easy smile. “I told you, I’m here for as long as you need me this weekend, Rose. And if you still need me on Monday, well, I have tons of holiday hours saved up.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, wanting to hug him, not sure if she should.

“Are you hungry?” he asked. 

Rose shrugged. “I could eat, I suppose.”

“Let’s go see what your mum rustled up, yeah?”

She nodded, giving him a small smile, and followed him out of the lounge.


	14. Chapter 14

27 November 2011

Ian unlocked the door to his house on Sunday afternoon and stepped inside for the first time in days. Rose had felt progressively more steady and stable as the weekend had gone on, until Saturday evening when she told him she thought she could do it on her own. He hadn’t doubted her, really, but he’d been determined to stay for a little while longer, just to be able to catch her if she started to sink again. 

But she had done well, much better than anyone had any right to expect from her, and he’d taken his leave shortly after lunch. He’d been anxious about leaving her, but relieved to be going home. He desperately needed a shower. 

Once he had bathed and changed into pyjama trousers and a t-shirt - even though it was only the middle of the afternoon - he padded into his study and picked up his guitar, throwing the strap over his head and plugging in. His thoughts ran where they wanted, guiding his fingers, and he found himself playing a classic blues melody. It was little surprise that his troubled brain had picked this song, he thought. Apparently, ol’ Slowhand had known Ian’s current agony well.

_I tried to give you consolation_   
_When your old man had let you down._   
_Like a fool, I fell in love with you._   
_You've turned my whole world upside down._

Ian hated this Doctor fucker, hated him with the fiery passion of ten thousand suns. Not only did the bastard have Rose’s heart - a prize that Ian coveted desperately - he’d shattered it. And then he’d gotten to fly away while Ian watched her sob, broken and afraid. 

He didn’t mind consoling Rose or being there for her; that was a fucking honor and he’d always, _always_ be available to be what she needed. No, what he minded was that he’d even _had_ to console her. Rose Tyler should be happy every fucking moment of every fucking day, in his humble opinion. Seeing her weeping the way she had been, as if her very soul was being ripped from her body, had crushed him, too. She deserved better. And if he had his way, she’d get all the wonderful things she deserved. 

_Let's make the best of the situation_   
_Before I finally go insane._   
_Please don't say we'll never find a way_   
_And tell me all my love's in vain._

But she wasn’t remotely ready for any type of romantic relationship for multiple reasons, and pursuing her would only make her run in the opposite direction. He was relegated to be her friend, her support. As much as the idea fucking grated, he could take on the role of beloved and doting uncle, both for Rose and for the baby. It was much less than he wanted (although he _did_ want to be seen as beloved and doting), but if it was all she was able to give he’d take it, and gladly. 

It was pathetic, how much he loved this woman, and he knew he was setting himself up for a trip to the emotional fucking woodshed. But he didn’t give a shit. She was worth it - every minute she allowed him to be near her made the near-certainty of a massive heartbreak worth it, whether it would be from her leaving, the Doctor doing the impossible and returning, or her finding someone her own age to love. Until then he’d take whatever scraps she threw his way that allowed him to be part of her life. That was all that fucking mattered right now. Whatever she could give, he’d be grateful for. He just wanted to be near her. 

He hung up the guitar and pulled out his mobile, intending to check on Rose one more time, only to see that there were several missed texts waiting for him. All from Joan.

~Joan [received Sat. at 4:00 p.m.]: _7:00 work for you?_  
~Joan [received Sat. at 5:38 p.m.]: _Doctor?_  
~Joan [received Sat. at 7:05 p.m.]: _I hope everything's alright._

_Fuck_. He’d forgotten all about Joan. 

~Ian: _Sorry. Something came up._  
~Joan: _no problem. Try again soon?_

If this thing with Rose was really meant to remain a strictly platonic, surrogate uncle/niece relationship, it didn’t matter what he did with who. He was free to see whoever he wanted in whatever capacity he chose. The correct thing to do would be to text Joan back and make plans. He was helping Rose move on Saturday, but that wouldn’t take all day. His evening would be free. 

He didn’t reply.

~*~O~*~

Ian had left just after lunch, and Rose had made a point of smiling when she waved goodbye to him. She’d wanted to hug him, to thank him for everything, but the words wouldn’t come. So she just said thank you and waved merrily when he left. She’d been telling him since the night before that she thought she was ready to be on her own, that he didn’t need to stay with her. And it was true: she’d felt much more stable, much more positive when he was there. He’d had her smiling - even laughing! But within thirty minutes of him leaving, she was tempted to ring him and ask him to come back. She hadn’t expected to feel so… wobbly when he wasn’t around. Anguish threatened to creep back in on her without him supporting her and she felt oddly hollow.

Rose could tell that her mother had had a hand in the meal planning: she had been served an assortment of her favorite comfort foods since rejoining her mum and Pete for dinner. Ian had been beside her Friday and Saturday night, but tonight she was on her own. Her mother seemed to sense that Ian not being there would make her feel just a little less steady than she’d been when he was by her side, and was doing her best to be cheerful and act like nothing was wrong. Rose wasn’t entirely sure that was the best approach, but she appreciated the effort. 

“Ian went home this afternoon?” Pete asked as he was spearing a piece of cheesecake with his fork. 

Rose nodded. “Yeah. I feel guilty that he stayed so long, but I’m glad he did.”

“Don’t feel guilty. He was glad to do it. I’ve known Ian for nearly thirty years and I can tell you with one hundred percent certainty that if he hadn’t wanted to be here, he wouldn’t have been here.”

She felt like there was something significant in that statement, something she should probably chew on, but she was mentally and emotionally exhausted and didn’t feel like trying to suss it out - then having to dwell on it. 

Instead, she asked what she hoped was an innocuous question. “How did you meet him? Ian, I mean.”

Pete raised an eyebrow. “He hasn’t told you?” Rose shook her head. “I figured he would have, as much time as you two have spent together.”

Again, Rose had the feeling that there was more to that statement than was hitting home just then, but didn’t care. She wasn’t up for anything beyond the superficial right now. “No, the subject has never come up.”

“Huh. Well, it’s nothing scandalous. We were in a band together.”

That took Rose by surprise, and she even gave a little half smile - her first since he’d left. “You were in a band? With Ian?”

“Yep. I played drums, Ian played guitar and sang. Helluva guitar player, Ian is.”

Rose sat back in her chair, honestly surprised. Of all the answers she could have gotten, that was not at all what she expected.

“He was the front man, and a damn good choice for one. He really knew how to work a crowd. I guess that probably came in handy when he became a doctor. Bedside manner and all that.”

“That’s…”

“Surprising?” 

Rose huffed. “Little bit, yeah.”

“I have pictures, if you want to see,” Pete offered casually, tentatively. “Of course, Ian may kill me if he finds out I showed you. There were some… interesting hair and clothing choices that were made.”

Jackie spoke up for the first time, one eyebrow raised. “Are you saying that you didn’t wear anything stupid?”

He looked affronted. “Of course not! I was always the height of fashion. And my hair never looked stupid.”

Jackie snorted, then muttered into her cheesecake: “Can’t have stupid hair if you don’t have any hair at all.”

“Oi!” 

Rose nearly choked on her drink, trying not to laugh, but when she saw Pete scowling and snuck a glance at her mother, she gave up the ghost and giggled. It was the first time she’d laughed since Ian left, and it felt good.

“Anyway,” Pete said with a quick glare at a grinning Jackie, “I have photos if you’d like to see them after dinner.”

“Absolutely.” She couldn’t imagine Ian ever looking silly, so the idea of seeing him that way was definitely appealing. 

When they’d all finished their cheesecake, Pete told them to go into the lounge while he went to get the picture albums. Rose and her mother had a seat on one of the couches, making themselves comfortable. Very shortly, Pete returned with a couple of albums, coming to sit on the couch between the two women. Rose was ready to reach for the book and see what was inside, but Pete kept his hand on the top. 

“Before we get into these, I need to let you know that there are pictures of Jackie in here. The other Jackie. She hung around the band a bit when she and I were dating, and there are some photos.”

Jackie waved him off. “You think I didn’t have pictures of the other Pete? I’m fine, don’t worry about me. Come on. Rose is dying to see Ian, I think.”

Rose flushed a little, but she couldn’t dispute her mother’s words. She really was excited to see potentially embarrassing photos of Ian - more excited than she’d been in a long time.

“Alright,” Pete said in an on-your-own-head-be-it sort of tone. He turned the first book until it was rightside up, then flipped open the cover. Rose and Jackie both leaned towards him, looking at the book, interested. 

“Is that you?” Rose asked, pointing towards a young man that looked rather familiar. 

“Yep, that’s me,” he said, sounding almost proud. 

Rose leaned a little closer to the picture. It was clearly Pete, now that she was looking closely, but younger, with hair (a fact that her mother commented on with a snort). His clothes were very similar to the styles she’d seen in 1987 when she visited with the Doctor. He was smiling more brightly than she’d ever seen - except in 1987 when he figured out that Rose was his daughter - standing next to another young man dressed similarly. 

“That’s not Ian…” Rose observed. 

“No, that’s Colin. He played bass with us.”

She wasn’t at all interested in seeing pictures of some bloke that played bass with them, she wanted to see her friend. 

Pete turned the page. “This is Ian.”

Rose looked down at the photos in plastic sleeves. Her eyes scanned each of the people she saw, but none of them jumped out to her as Ian. Pete apparently detected her confusion because he grinned and pointed to the photo on the top right. She peered down at it, and her jaw dropped open. 

It was Ian, but he looked very...different. His hair wasn’t grey, it was bright red and styled in a completely ridiculous fashion. He was clearly on stage, playing his low-slung guitar and singing into the mic. He was still terribly handsome, though, and she found herself wishing she had the TARDIS so she could fly back in time and see him perform. 

“His hair…” Jackie said, sounding like she was just holding back laughter. 

“Yeah, that was a phase. Didn’t last long. He dyed it back after a couple months. Here.” He pointed to another photo. 

Rose smiled when she caught sight of her friend. His hairstyle in this picture was, if possible, even worse than the one with the clown-red hair. It stuck up in all directions in what she could only imagine was the style at the time. He was on stage again, this time playing his guitar and looking over at Colin, grinning about something. His smile lit up his face in the photo, just as Rose had seen it light up the room when he’d joked with her. 

She looked onto the opposite page and spotted Ian again. This time, he and Pete had their arms slung around each other, smirking at the camera like the insolent boys Rose suspected they were. 

The three of them flipped through the book together for a while, Pete stopping occasionally to tell a funny story. It was the warmest she’d felt towards him since she landed, but she was still grateful he was gone when he closed the album and got up to go put it back.

“Speaking of books,” Jackie said, then pulled out a thick trade paperback with a smiling baby on the front. She handed it to Rose. “I picked up a baby name book. I know you don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl yet, but it couldn’t hurt to start getting some ideas, yeah?”

Rose’s eyes welled with tears and she leaned over to hug her mother. “Thank you, Mum.”

“Anything for my baby and grandbaby.”

~*~O~*~

29 November 2011  
Week Fourteen

Ian strode into Pete’s house, just as he always did, but he wasn’t entirely sure where he wanted to go. It was pool night and under ordinary circumstances, he’d head to the billiards room. But these weren’t entirely ordinary circumstances. 

He was a bit worried that he’d been pestering the fuck out of Rose yesterday and today, but he couldn’t help it. Grief was no stranger to him, and he knew all too well that she could spiral back down into a black abyss with no warning. He wanted to keep a check on her as best he could, and had told Clara to prepare for the possibility that he may have to leave work suddenly. 

But Rose’s messages had been normal, even upbeat, and he was terribly grateful for it. He knew he’d been hovering, but he just couldn’t help it. His protective instinct when it came to her was a force to be reckoned with. 

So that left him standing in the foyer of Pete’s mansion, debating the pros and cons of what he should do, what he was expected to do, and what he was dying to do. Surely Pete would understand that he wanted to check on Rose... especially after he’d spent three days here, basically locked in a room with her. Pete wouldn’t fault him for his concern, would he? Nah. 

He’d just decided to pull one of the maids aside and ask her to go let Rose know he was here when he heard her voice. 

“There you are. I wondered when you would get here.”

Ian spun on his heel to find Rose at the bottom of the stairs, her hand on the newel post. Her belly at fourteen weeks was flat enough that the snug denims and jumper she wore gave nothing away, but he knew it wouldn’t be long. He absolutely bathed in the smile she was giving him: she was happy to see him, and he felt some of the tension in his back and shoulders release. 

“Here I am,” he said, thinking it was rather lame as soon as the words left his mouth. “How are you?”

A cloud crossed her face and she looked away. “I’ve been better.” Ian started towards her, not sure what he was going to do but feeling the need to be a little closer to her. She looked up after a moment and smiled again. This one, while just as bright, seemed brittle. He wasn’t about to call her on it, however. “I came down here thinking I’d probably run into you if I hung around the foyer. Tuesday night and all.”

His heart beat so fast it felt like he had two. She’d wanted to see him?

“Yeah,” he croaked, then cleared his throat and started over. “Yeah, I usually get here around seven, maybe a little after. Give both of us time to eat dinner.”

“Why don’t you eat dinner with us?” 

It wasn’t an invitation, just a question, and Ian shrugged. “I’ve always just eaten some sort of fast food before I came over. I assumed Pete did the same.”

“That makes sense, I suppose.” She stepped off the bottom step and walked slowly towards him, crossing her arms when she got closer. Ian felt himself tensing with every step, but she stopped arm’s length away. “So… do you still play guitar?”

He blinked, nonplussed. He hadn’t expected _that_ to come out of her mouth. 

“How do you --”

“Of course,” she went on, her eyes twinkling mischievously, “the music probably just wouldn’t sound the same if your hair didn’t look ridiculous.” 

Her tongue was between her teeth, but Ian was mortified. “My rat bastard best friend showed you those fucking pictures, didn’t he?”

She burst into giggles and though he was still plotting Pete’s slow and violent death, he was thrilled to hear the sound of her happiness. There was even some small part of him that was glad she'd allowed Pete to share something of himself with her, even if it was at his expense. She seemed to enjoy his outrage, so he laid it on for her. 

“That son of a… He didn’t show you the pictures of the red hair, did he? Tell me he fucking didn’t.”

Rose cracked up again, and he couldn’t quite hide his smile. He was beyond embarrassed that she’d seen fucking photos of him looking like that, but if it brought her any kind of joy at all, he’d swallow his fucking pride and show her the pictures himself. 

“To answer your question,” he started in a mock-affronted voice, “yes, I still play my guitar. But only at home, when I need to relax.”

“Pete says you're pretty good.”

“I do alright.”

She didn’t say anything else for a moment, just smiled softly. “You’re wearing your glasses again.”

“You said you liked them.”

“I do like them.”

There was an awkward silence while Ian struggled for something to say. Rose saved him. 

“Are you still willing to help me move on Saturday?”

“Absolutely. It’ll be my fucking pleasure.”

He wasn’t sure, but thought she might be blushing. “Are you going to come and watch The Yard on Thursday?”

“Wild horses couldn’t keep me away.”

Rose smiled again, but before he could say anything, Pete came into the foyer. “Ian! You’re late!”

“I’m not fucking late, I was just chatting with Rose.”

Pete gave him a look he couldn’t quite figure out, but Rose reached up and touched his bicep. “You go play. I’ll talk to you later, I’m sure.”

“Absolutely. Have a good night.”

“Have a good night, Ian.”

They waited until Rose was out of earshot, then as they were walking down the corridor to the billiards room Pete said, “You feel better now? Knowing she’s alright, that we’ve been taking care of her?”

“I never doubted you would.” Then he punched Pete in the arm, earning an ‘ow!’ “Why the fuck would you show her those pictures? You’re supposed to be my best friend, you fucking arsehole! That’s some shit Fergus would pull, Ringo.”

"Don't ‘Ringo’ me, arsehole."

"Why the fuck not?"

"Because I'll start calling you David Lee Roth if you don't. Diamond Dave."

"...fuck you."

"Well, don't call me Ringo."

The two men bickered for the first rack, then both forgot what they’d been arguing about.

~*~O~*~

2 December 2011

_The pain was as unrelenting as it was agonizing. Sweat slicked her head, chest, and back, and she cried out inarticulately when her belly contracted around the baby she carried._

_“Doctor!” she shouted. “Doctor, I need you! Please!”_

_But he didn’t come. No one came. She was alone in the sterile hospital room, writhing in agony with every contraction._

_"I can’t do this," she cried, shaking her head back and forth to emphasize her denial. "I can’t do this. I can't. I’m not strong enough. Doctor!”_

_"You can do it, Rose," she heard a soft Scottish brogue say from a distance. "I believe in you. You can do this."_

Ian _. He was here. He would help her. He would keep her safe, would make the pain stop._

_"Ian," she called him, holding out her hand to him where he stood across the room. "I need you. Please."_

_"Don’t worry, Rose. I’ll keep you safe."_

_Another contraction gripped her, and she shouted with the pain. "Please, Ian. Please. I need you so much."_

_He came to the side of her bed and as soon as he was close enough, she reached for him. Her hand passed right through his, and horror flooded her. Before she could react he faded away right before her very eyes - just like the Doctor had - just as another contraction hit._

_She screamed this time, wailing in both physical and emotional pain._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Derek and the Dominos - Layla](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Th3ycKQV_4k)


	15. Chapter 15

8 December 2011

Ian shut and locked his office, letting Clara know he was leaving and telling her to have a good night. He pulled his mobile out of his pocket, hoping Rose would have texted. There was a message, but not from Rose. 

~Fergus: _Mam said she missed you this weekend_

He sighed. It bothered him anytime he disappointed Auntie, but helping Rose move had been foremost on his mind. He should have at least called to let her know, though. Sliding the screen to unlock it, he went to the messaging app and typed:

~Ian: _Are you saying you didn't?_  
~Fergus: _the same way a bloke misses a toothache_

Ian snorted. He could carry on some shit with Fergus all day, but he was almost to his car and had somewhere to be. 

~Ian: _had shit going on. I'll be up there this weekend for your birthday_  
~Fergus: _No, you're welcome to stay down there. I got collops and tatties._  
~Ian: _go ahead and rub it in, arsehole_

Tossing the mobile into the passenger seat, he started up the car and turned left out of the car park towards the mansion instead of the right that would take him to his own home. 

Fifteen minutes later, he was in Pete’s driveway, veering towards the little cottage on the grounds he’d helped move Rose into the weekend before. Being there had brought about quite a few mixed emotions for Ian. The last time he’d been to the cottage, he’d been staying there in the aftermath of his split from Jenn. Those were not days he enjoyed looking back on, really, but if Rose was going to be staying at the cottage, he’d get the fuck over his discomfort. Being with her was worth it, and more.

He parked his sporty little car in the gravel drive for the cottage and got out, heading to the side door. The front door stuck, he knew from experience, and he didn’t want Rose exerting herself quite that hard. He was glad to see that Pete had taken his suggestion and replaced the lock on the door with a keypad. That way Rose wouldn’t have to worry about carrying around keys and Ian would have the peace of mind of knowing that the door would automatically lock anytime it was closed. Rose came to the door almost before he was done knocking, and opened it with a smile.

“Ian, hi! I wasn’t expecting you for at least another hour.” She stepped aside so he could come in.

Swallowing his nerves and praying they weren’t obvious, he said, “I came straight from work. I should have called, I’m sorry. It was rude of me.”

“No, I’m not complaining,” she amended. “Just surprised, is all. Have you eaten?” Ian shook his head. “Would you like to order in before we watch The Yard? I have the strangest craving for Chinese dumplings.”

He snorted. “Unusual cravings are normal. Just try not to overdo it on any one thing.”

Rose gave him a snappy mock salute. “Yes, sir!” He gave her a withering look and she giggled, grabbing her mobile from the kitchen counter. “What can I order you to eat?”

“You don’t have to buy my dinner, Rose…”

“Oh, hush,” she waved at him. “You helped me move, it’s the least I can do. What do you want?”

“Moo goo gai pan.”

“Mmm. That sounds good.” She gave him a bright smile, and he hoped she didn’t see the way her ‘mmm’ affected him. “I’m gonna step into the lounge to order. Be right back!”

He didn’t have a chance to respond before she’d disappeared into the lounge and Ian sighed a little, shaking his head ruefully. How was it that even her leaving to go into another fucking _room_ was cute?

Rose seemed to have settled in a bit since they’d moved her in on Saturday: there were a handful of personal effects lying around and an ultrasound photo of the baby was attached to the refrigerator with magnets. He stepped over to look at it, despite having been there when it was taken, and was grateful for the umpteenth time that the baby seemed to be taking after Rose and not its… _father_.

Something on the kitchen table caught his eye and he walked over to investigate. Lying on the cheerful tablecloth were four paintings, brightly colored, each depicting an unusual landscape. As Rose had told him, there was one with a purple sky and yellow grass. There was also a distant mountain range in a green-grey color, a beach-type scene in cool colors, and something that looked a bit like a rainforest, with trees in shades of pink and red. 

He heard her coming back into the kitchen and turned to look at her. “Rose...these are fucking _gorgeous_ ,” he said, indicating the paintings and genuinely in a bit of awe. “You did all these in the past week?”

She was smiling and biting her lip. “You like?”

“They’re seriously fucking impressive. When you told me you could paint, I didn’t think you could paint like _this_.”

“That’s what you get for not having faith in me.” He looked up to say that he _did_ have the utmost faith in her, but she was grinning with her tongue between her teeth. He relaxed a little.

“Cheeky.”

“I think you’ll find that I usually am,” she agreed.

“Have you ever considered working as a professional artist?”

She blushed. “I’m not nearly good enough for something like that.”

“I’m forced to disagree,” he said, indicating the paintings. “You’re a fucking spectacular artist.” Her blush deepened, and he decided to change directions slightly. “Have you ever considered _teaching_ art?”

Rose looked thoughtful. “I’m not good enough to teach adults, but I could probably teach kids the basics…”

“You should. There are fucking shit tons of community centers all over London. I’d be willing to bet that any one of them would be thrilled if you’d teach a class.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“Am not. Mean every word.”

She flushed again, looking away. “Yeah, alright. I’ll think about that. I like kids, and I’m getting bored sitting around here all the time. Could be fun, who knows?”

Ian chuckled. “So what are you going to do with these?”

She shrugged. “Don’t know. I guess I could hang them up around here, but most of them don’t exactly match the decor…”

“Give them to me,” he said impulsively. “The office is in need of new wall hangings. The ones we’ve got are fucking old, and these are simply lovely.”

Rose raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re wanting to hang paintings of alien landscapes in your office?”

“Sure,” he shrugged. “No one will know they’re alien. I’m certainly not fucking telling.”

“No, I suppose not,” she snorted. “You’re welcome to them. If there’s something that will match better, I’ll be happy to paint it for you.”

“You really enjoy it, don’t you?”

“Nothing better to do.” Rose started over to the couch and he followed her, taking a seat in one corner while she situated herself in the other. “Pete forbade me from working at Torchwood while I’m pregnant, says I can come back after the baby is born.”

Ian would be doing his damndest to talk her out of that when the time came, he knew. 

“It was the right call; the job is dangerous on the best of days.” She smiled a little - wistfully, he thought. “Not every alien is a friendly, visiting helper in a police box.”

His heart twisted the same way it did every time she spoke about the Doctor, and he tried to fight down the intense jealousy he felt.

Deciding to change the subject, he said, "Tell me something about yourself. Something I don’t know."

She grinned at him, her tongue between her teeth. "Are you going to return the favor?"

"Abso-fucking-lutely. But you go first."

She giggled then spoke, still smiling a little, but looking antsy. "I'm not really 24."

"What?"

"This universe runs faster than ours. It was 2008 there when we… came here. Rather than move my birthdate and have me keep messing that up, we kept it the same. And if I get my age wrong, what's so odd about a woman lying about her age?" She laughed. "We did the same thing with mum so that her birth date would match the other Jackie’s, and let me tell you, she was _not_ pleased."

Neither was Ian. He'd worried that she was too young before. But now, knowing she was only twenty-one? He fought the urge to bury his face in his hands, a motion that would surely announce to her that something was bothering him.

"Are you alright?" she asked. She was too fucking perceptive by half. 

"Yeah, I’m fine. I just --"

"You’re freaked out about my age," she said, sounding somewhat resigned. 

"No, not freaked out. It just widens the age gap between us."

"What difference does that make?"

She was right. He couldn’t have her, so the point was moot. "No difference at all," he said sadly.

Rose was quiet for a second, pensive, then seemed to shake it off and smiled brightly. "Alright, then, mister, I told you something about myself, it’s your turn."

He pondered for a second, trying to think of something to tell her. Something impressive. Something that might earn him an admiring glance.

“I’m a terrific cook.”

She let out a ‘ha’ of laughter, but when he didn’t laugh with her, she sobered. “You’re serious?”

“Dead fucking serious. You think I’d lie to you?”

“No, of course not, it’s just… I didn’t expect that.” 

“Well, I didn’t expect to hear that you’re younger than you actually are.”

“Touche. What’s your specialty?”

“My mum was Italian, and her whole family loved to cook. My grandfather taught me everything he knew - and I loved to learn. My Auntie Grace is also a spectacular cook, but she sticks more to traditional Scottish fare. Seemed I was in the kitchen with her, helping, before dinner every night.”

“You were close with your aunt, then?”

“Still am. She raised me from the time I was eight, when my parents died.”

Rose reached across and put her hand on his. “I’m so sorry.”

He just stared down at her hand for a second, silently enjoying the touch. “It’s fine,” he said, getting back to the subject at hand. “It was a long time ago, and while it was pretty fucking traumatic, I had a soft place to land, and a lot of orphans don’t. Auntie is my da’s sister. She and her husband took me in, raised me as their own along with their son, my cousin Fergus.”

“What part of Scotland are you from?”

“Just outside of Glasgow. Far enough out for there to be fields of fucking cows and sheep and shit, but close enough to town to get where we need to go fairly quickly. Auntie has left my old bedroom just as it was, for the most part, and I’m not just welcome to stay there when I go up, I’m fucking expected to.”

“So you still see your aunt, uncle, and cousin?”

Ian nodded. “Yeah. Well, Uncle Dougan died about ten or twelve years back. Had a heart attack.” He gave her a little grin. “Probably all that Scottish food.”

Rose giggled a little, and his smile broadened. “But yeah, I go up there once a month or so, depending on what’s going on. I try to never stay away longer than two months, if I can help it.” He felt a pang of guilt - it had been nearly two months since his last visit. But he was going this weekend.

“So you’re expected to stay there, huh? Your auntie must be the type you don’t say no to,” Rose said with a mischievous grin.

“Pretty much,” he agreed. “Not that I would ever want to. I owe almost everything to her.”

He fretted that he’d rambled on, told her too much about his life. She was giving him an assessing look. “Maybe you’ll have to cook something for me one night.”

“It would be my fucking honor,” he said, trying not to get too excited. Then he sobered a bit. “Alright. Your turn again.”

“Again?” she asked with raised eyebrows and a quirked lip.

“Sure. There’s bound to be more of you to tell besides you being a closet artist, younger than your age and from another fucking universe.”

Rose grinned, but it was a small, almost sad smile. “You’ll think less of me.”

“Fucking never,” he promised, meaning it sincerely.

She was quiet a minute, seeming to gather her thoughts, then sighed and started. “My dad died when I was six months old, making Mum a single mum. She had a hard time making ends meet, and since my dad was dead and never made it big in my universe, I grew up on the estates.”

Ian was genuinely surprised - he never would have expected that from her. But he remained quiet.

“It wasn’t bad,” she continued, looking away to the general vicinity of the leg of the coffee table. “I always knew that we didn’t have a lot of money when I was growing up, but none of my friends did, either. Mum finally got certified as a hairdresser when I was ten and started doing hair. Money got better after that. But I… I made a mistake and dropped out of school. I never got my A-levels.”

“You’re fucking kidding.”

“Nope. It’s all true. I was just starting to get myself back on track when the Doctor showed up. I couldn’t say no to that kind of adventure.”

“Well, of course not,” he said, his gut twisting again.

Rose looked up at him from beneath her lashes. “Told you you’d think less of me.”

“I don’t. I swear,” he promised, and it was the truth. “It doesn’t matter to me where you grew up or your fucking educational level. You’re a good person. That’s what counts.”

She flushed under the compliment but smiled, and he congratulated himself on making her feel better about something that had obviously been bothering her. 

“Alright then, mister,” Rose said, recovering. “Your turn again. But this time I’ll ask a question. What made you go into medicine?”

“My mam and da,” he answered at once. “They died in a car accident on the way to some gala or another. The police were never sure what happened, whether he saw something in the fucking road or whatever, but Da lost control of the car and it flipped a couple of times.”

Rose had her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with horror. “That’s terrible.”

Ian nodded. “It was worse because they’d clearly been alive for a little while after the accident, but they were dead by the time anyone found them. I remember thinking over and over that if I had been there and I was a doctor, I could have saved them.”

“There’s nothing you could have done,” she soothed him. “You were eight.”

“I know that now but at the time, it was all I could fucking think about. I vowed to become a doctor so I could save people. My parents had been wealthy, so going to the best schools wasn’t a problem, and Auntie and Uncle supported me. But then I got to medical school and realized that I didn’t fucking _want_ to be there when people’s lives ended. I didn’t _want_ to lose patients regularly when they were too far gone for me to help them, I didn’t _want_ the heavy guilt of knowing that I couldn’t save everyone. I’d much prefer to bring life _into_ the world than escort it _out_. So I studied obstetrics and gynecology and here I am. After a certain point in the pregnancy, it’s rare to lose a baby. Losing a mother is even more rare. And once we all got certified in fertility, too, well… the best fucking feeling in the world is handing a screaming newborn to a couple that’s been trying and trying for years.”

Rose’s eyes were wet. “That’s beautiful.”

“I don’t know about all that,” he pooh-poohed, trying not to blush at the way she was looking at him. 

“No, it is. The way you described it…” She sniffled, and Ian puffed with pride. Rose gave a watery laugh, waving her hands at her face. “Ugh! Seems like I cry all the time now!”

“It’s just hormonal shifts,” Ian said, hoping to sound encouraging, fighting with himself to keep from reaching out for her and pulling her close. 

“I know. Does it get better?”

“It tends to come and go for most women.”

Rose wiped her eyes, scoffing. “Great. I get to look forward to this until May.”

It sprung to his lips to tell her that she’d probably still be a hormonal mess for a few weeks - or months - after the baby came, but worried he might get smacked for it. Pregnant women were nothing if not unpredictable.

“Oh, I forgot!” Her mood seemed to shift in an instant and she got up, dashing down the corridor towards the bedroom, then coming back holding a book. “Mum got this baby name book for me. I know we don’t know the baby’s sex yet, but would you mind if I bounced some ideas off of you?”

For a brief moment, Ian allowed himself to entertain a little fantasy of curling up on the couch with her after turning the TV off in the evening, and the two of them flipping through the book, discussing names before they went to bed. His longing for that hit him like a physical blow, stealing his breath for a second. 

But she was only asking him to be a sounding board. Someone to run ideas by. Like everything else to do with Rose, it was much less than what he wanted. But he’d be damned if he’d turn down the opportunity. 

“Wouldn’t mind at all,” he said with a smile. “Bounce away.”


	16. Chapter 16

11 December 2011

Ian descended the stairs of the zeppelin with a spring in his step, shouldered his overnight bag and headed towards the car park, checking his watch on the way. 1:13. 

Auntie had been less than subtle that morning when she asked about his plans for Christmas and Hogmanay. Ian hadn’t been home in a while before he’d gone up for Fergus’ birthday, and he knew it bothered Auntie when he was away so long. It bothered him, too, if he was being honest. So he’d promised to go home for Christmas - that had been no hardship, since the other option was spending the holiday in his house, alone. But he’d been a bit cagier about Hogmanay. Pete was throwing a New Year’s party this year, he knew, and… well… Rose would be there. Auntie had seemed content with him just coming for Christmas, and he was relieved. 

But the Christmas tree and familiar, nostalgic decorations all over Auntie’s house had reminded him that Rose had no such things anymore - that all of her mementos and whatnot had been left behind when she’d come here. She hadn’t mentioned Christmas at all, except for one offhand remark that she should probably get a tree. He’d resolved to ask if he could help her buy one when he got back. 

Now he was back. He pulled out his mobile. 

~Ian: _did you get a Christmas tree yet?_  
~Rose: _No, I haven’t done anything for Christmas so far._  
~Ian: _would you like to go out shopping for Christmas decorations? I need to buy a couple gifts._  
~Rose: _today?_  
~Ian: _no time like the present, right?_  
~Rose: _yeah, alright. sounds good. pick me up at two?_  
~Ian: _see you at two_  
~Rose: _:)_

Fighting the urge to punch the air, he pocketed his mobile and clicked the little remote on his keyring that would unlock his car. That done, he popped the boot, tossed his bag in and slammed the lid before he went to slide into the driver’s seat. He’d bought the car as a birthday gift to himself when he turned forty and Fergus had ribbed him about his ‘midlife crisis’. Ian had retaliated in kind, of course, by having a cake made that resembled a tombstone for Fergus’ fortieth birthday that December. He’d earned himself a disapproving look from Auntie, who always made the boys’ cakes herself, but Fergus had laughed. Auntie had pursed her lips at that, but eventually couldn’t hide her smile. She loved her boys and their antics. Usually. 

Ian drove to Pete’s and veered right off of the driveway towards Rose’s little cottage, so excited he was practically fucking vibrating like a toddler jacked up on fucking chocolate and soda. He was going to be taking Rose out in a social capacity… granted, it was fucking _shopping_ , but that was fine by him. He’d survived musical theater, Christmas shopping would be a breeze. 

The car rolled to a stop in her little driveway and he hopped out, heading to the door a few minutes early, feeling positively fucking ebullient. He knocked on her side door and waited, bouncing on the balls of his feet a little, until she came to the door and opened it. He smiled brightly - a smile she returned, much to his relief. 

“Are you alright?” she asked with eyebrow cocked, still smiling. 

“I’m fucking brilliant.”

Rose laughed a little and shut the door behind him. “Just really enjoy shopping, do you?”

“No,” he said, deciding not to lie to her. “I actually rather fucking hate shopping. But I do enjoy Christmas, and I’m hoping I can get your input about what to get my Auntie.”

“Me?”

Ian chuckled. “Yes, you.”

“I’ve never even met your Auntie.”

He dearly, dearly hoped he got the chance to rectify that one day. “She’s delightful, you’d love her. But as you can see, I’m not a woman --”

Rose snorted. “No, I think not.”

His ego puffed up a bit - whether it should or not. “-- and I could use some advice.”

“Don’t you know your Auntie better than anyone?”

“I do,” he allowed, starting to look for an escape hatch. “Except, perhaps, for fucking Fergus.”

Rose giggled. “‘Fucking Fergus’. Is that his legal name?”

Ian grinned. Couldn’t help it. Her happiness was contagious. “No, his name is actually Graham: Graham Fergus Fitzgerald. The Fergus is after our grandfather. I call him that because it winds him up.”

“And you enjoy winding him up?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” he assured her. “That arsehole gives as good as he gets.”

She chuckled. “Are you ready to go?”

“Absolutely. Grab your coat.”

~*~O~*~

Ian had been terribly curious to see what kind of decorations Rose would choose to decorate her tree. There were baubles and garland in nearly every color, and lights, too. He felt like he had a good idea of her personality already, but he’d learned throughout his life that you could tell a lot about a person by what they thought was beautiful. 

He’d come to associate her so strongly with pink that he was a bit surprised when she walked right by the pink bauble sets. Her eye caught on some that were royal blue and she stopped, reaching up to trail her fingers along the front of the box. Ian could see her lip quiver a bit and her eyes start to shine with tears, but she dropped her hand, sniffled, then shook it off and kept going. He didn’t ask, but assumed it had something to do with the Doctor. As much as it stung that she was still grieving him, he was pleased to see that she’d pulled herself together so quickly. Progress. 

“I’m on the wrong aisle,” she said suddenly, then started towards the next aisle over. Ian followed her, curious.

“I thought you needed baubles?”

“I do, but I need _plastic_ baubles. If I’m going to have a little one running around, I need to make sure they’re safe, yeah?”

Ian bit the inside of his cheek to keep from breaking into a bright smile. The fact that she wanted shatterproof ornaments in preparation for a child that wasn’t even there yet indicated that she had intentions to stay, and nothing made him happier than the thought of Rose staying. 

“Yeah, of course. That’s good thinking on your part.”

Rose smiled at him - a genuine smile - and, as always, he felt himself go a little wibbly. She turned back to the displays of plastic ornaments and started browsing.

Ian noticed a woman in the aisle shooting looks at him with Rose, looking as if she was trying to puzzle something out. He longed to put his arm around Rose, to settle the question in the mind of the nosy woman, but he couldn’t. He didn’t dare initiate contact with Rose without a damned good reason. The old biddy in the aisle staring at them was not a damned good reason. 

He hoped against logic that one day he wouldn’t _need_ a fucking reason to put his arm around her. 

“What do you think of these?” Rose asked, breaking into his thoughts. He looked over at her to find that she’d picked a large container of baubles in traditional Christmas colors: red, silver, and green. “I figure that’s enough to be getting started with, anyway. And we can step a couple of aisles over and pick up some other baubles - you know, things that look like Father Christmas and candy canes and whatnot. Maybe some snowmen. Yeah?”

Ian nodded. “That all sounds good, but you might want to get a second box of ornaments. Trees are big, and it will look a bit bare with just those.”

“Oh, I’m not going to have a big tree,” she waved him off. “What’s the point? It’s just me, and I’ll be spending Christmas with Mum and Pete, anyway. It’s probably silly for me to be doing this at all.” 

“It’s not at all silly,” Ian protested. 

She gave him a look. “You’re sweet. But I’m frequently silly, there’s no point in denying it.”

He chuckled. Silliness wasn’t usually endearing to him, but it was in Rose. “All the same, I’m going to be trying to talk you into a larger tree. If you’re going to celebrate, might as well do it right, yeah?”

Rose smiled, but it was wistful. He started to backtrack, to retract everything he’d said, say or do fucking _anything_ if it would bring back her bright, genuine smile. 

But before he could act on that impulse, she seemed to shake it off again and while her smile wasn’t entirely genuine, it wasn’t entirely forced. “Alright then, Mr. Docherty, you’ve talked me into it. A bigger tree and more baubles.”

Ian didn’t dare correct her about his name, wasn’t about to fucking dare bring up the word ‘doctor’ right then. He was too happy to see her brush off her sadness for the second time in a short period. “Here then,” he said, reaching for the box in her hand. “I’ll take that one, you grab another one, and we’ll go look at the reindeers and sleighs and shit.”

She tittered. “Actually, it may be better if we just go ahead and get a trolley. We still have to get lights and garland and a couple of wreaths, too.”

He cocked an eyebrow and one side of his mouth. “Go big or go home, eh?” As soon as the words escaped, he wished he had a way to call them back. 

Rose’s smile never faltered. “Exactly.”

Ian heaved a sigh of relief and told her to wait right where she was, he’d go get a trolley, determined to do anything he had to do to keep her in this good mood.

His mobile buzzed in his pocket when he was barely out of her sight.

~Fergus: _Forgot to mention. Got Ringo’s invite for Hogmanay._

He sucked in a breath through his teeth. If Fergus was going to be at Pete’s New Year’s party then he’d meet Rose. If he met Rose then there was no way he’d be able to miss the fact that Ian was arse over teakettle in love with her. And on the list of shit he didn’t want to happen, Fergus realizing he was in love with Rose was pretty high up there.

~Ian: _Oh yeah?_  
~Fergus: _Had to decline. Already had plans._

Ian felt his entire body relax and a huge breath rushed out of him. Thank God. 

~Fergus: _Maybe next year, yeah?_

That was that bullet dodged, but his luck wouldn’t hold out forever. Eventually, if he maintained a close friendship with Rose, at some point she and Fergus would cross paths. And when they did, Fergus would know everything without Ian saying a word. He wasn’t looking forward to that day.

~Ian: _yeah. maybe next year._

~*~O~*~

Rose took a step back and put her hands on her hips, surveying her tree. It was beautiful, if she did say so herself. She had to admit, she was glad that she’d let Ian talk her into the bigger tree. He’d been funny at the tree lot, discarding various perfectly acceptable trees, not settling until he found ‘the one’. Rose had just given in and let him pick, offering minor input when needed. When she’d genuinely been pleased with the tree he’d picked, he seemed to light up and Rose had had to bite back a giggle to avoid wounding his masculine pride. 

Ian stepped back beside her and squinted at the tree, then took two large steps even farther back and squinted again. Rose squinted at _him_ , grinning. 

“What are you doing?”

“I’m making sure the lights are all even. Somewhat equally spaced. Wouldn’t do to have more at the top than the bottom, or vice versa.”

“But why are you squinting?”

“C’mere.” He reached out for her and wrapped his hand around her arm, tugging her until she was beside him. “Squint at the tree a little.”

Although it seemed barmy, she did as she was told. To her surprise, she was able to see the lights more clearly - even though they were slightly blurred. 

“Where’d you learn to do that?” 

“My Da. He showed it to me when I was little and liked to help decorate the tree. Then Auntie did the same thing when she was decorating for Christmas. I suppose it was something they did as children, as well.”

“So you carried on the tradition and this is how you decorate your tree, too?”

“Nah. I haven’t fucked with having a tree in the last ten years or so, since I bought my house. Seemed like a waste of a perfectly good tree when I was going to be working most of the time and then spending the actual holiday in Glasgow.” He shrugged. “No one to decorate for, I suppose. I throw a wreath up on my door so my neighbors don’t think I’m a fucking scrooge. Although they probably do, anyway. It’s well known that carol singers will be criticized.” 

Rose tried to think of something to say to that, but before she could, Ian spoke. “Shit. I forgot to get something for Auntie and Fergus.”

“Oh, no, Ian. I’m sorry. We were so focused on me we didn’t even get what you needed.”

His face softened at once. “It’s not your fault, don’t ever think that. I just forgot. But I will still get you to help me.”

She was a bit excited by that and didn’t know why. “You want to go back out?”

“No, you’re likely tired.”

Rose was tired, although she hated to admit it. But the idea of going out with him again was _so_ pleasant. “We could go this coming weekend, if you like?” 

“I have work this weekend.”

She had thought he only worked during the week and then the call he had to take, and Ian looked uncomfortable, making Rose want to ask. But Ian recovered quickly and looked at her questioningly.

“Tell me, if you were going to get something for your mother, what would it be?”

Rose thought for a second. “I’m not sure. I’ve been thinking about getting her something with the baby’s birthstone, but I’m not sure he’ll be born in May.”

“She,” he corrected her confidently. “And that’s smart thinking. You can never predict when babies will be born, and only about five percent are born on their due date. Due dates are just a shot in the dark, really.” Rose pondered on that for a second, and Ian went on. “But jewelry won’t do. I need something that you may get to tease her.”

“You want to tease your aunt?” Rose asked with a raised eyebrow.

“No, we’ll get to my aunt in a minute. The jewelry you suggested may work for her, that’s clever.”

“Who are you buying a woman’s gift for?” She tried to ignore the flash of jealousy she felt. 

“Fergus.”

Rose laughed out loud, tickled by his answer and relieved it wasn’t anyone else - like another woman. She didn’t bother to dwell on that thought. 

“You want to get Fergus something you’d get a woman?”

“Absolutely. That shithead got me a girdle for my last birthday.”

She laughed again, thoroughly amused by the idea of Ian in a girdle. “That’s terrible!”

“It is,” he conceded, “but we enjoy winding each other up.”

“Anti-ageing cream,” Rose suggested.

“Hmm?”

“Anti-ageing cream. If I wanted to wind my mother up, that’s what I’d do. Although that would probably work better for his birthday…”

Ian shook his head. “Nah. I ordered his birthday gift a couple of weeks ago and had it shipped to him with a note that it was from me.”

Rose raised an eyebrow at his mischievous look. “What did you get him?”

He smirked, which piqued her curiosity… and made her stomach swoop. “Something he’ll get a lot of use out of.”

She wanted to ask but didn’t get a chance. 

“Yeah, no, anti-ageing cream is fucking perfect,” he said, his face glowing, and Rose decided she liked him in this mood. “Thank you. So, how do you like the tree?”

“It’s gorgeous. We did an amazing job.” She bumped him with her shoulder. “Me and you, we’re a pretty good team, huh?”

A look passed over his face that she didn’t quite understand, but it was gone quickly. “That we are.” He stepped over to the tree without looking at her and plucked one bauble off, moving it over one branch in a needless adjustment, then moved another into its spot. He asked without turning to face her, “Are you hungry?”

“No, but I should probably eat. Are _you_ hungry?” 

“A bit. I can pick something up on the way home.”

“Nonsense. You can stay with me and eat.” She caught herself and added, “If you want to, that is.”

Ian finally turned back around, his lip curling a bit. “I’d love to.”

“Good. Let me go see what I’ve got.” She went into the kitchen and started opening cabinets, looking to see what she had. There wasn’t much in the way of dinner-type food, but she found some hot cocoa mix and a bag of marshmallows she’d picked up when she had a craving. Biting her lip on a smile, she popped her head around the corner to find Ian. 

He was still looking at the tree, hands in pockets, and she said his name to get his attention. The look on his face was hard to read, but he smiled when she smiled. “It looks like I don’t have anything to throw together and make a meal. What would you like to order?”

Ian shrugged. “I don’t really have a preference. What are you craving?”

“Curry.” There wasn’t any question, really. 

“Curry it is,” he chuckled, then pulled his mobile out of his pocket. “I’ll call it in. Why don’t you come sit?”

“Actually, I was going to see if you wanted to have some hot cocoa? Seems like a good tradition to start, yeah?” He didn’t answer right away, but the same look crossed his face. He looked almost hesitant, so she said in a sing-song voice. “I’ve got marshmallows…”

His expression cleared; he cocked an eyebrow and one corner of his lip. “You don’t have food, but you have marshmallows?”

“Impulse purchase,” she explained, and he chuckled. “Do you want some?”

“Sure. Easy on the marshmallows.”

“Oh, that’s no fun. I like about an inch worth.” Ian looked horrified, and she giggled. “You call in the curry and I’ll make the hot cocoa, shall I?”

“Sounds good.”

She could hear him talking in the next room while she made the hot cocoa. When she was done, she went into the lounge and handed him his mug… she’d put a whopping four mini marshmallows into his cup. He grinned down at it and blew across it while Rose sat down on the opposite end of the couch and put her mug on the coffee table, pulling the name book to her. 

“So you’re starting a tradition?”

“Hmm?”

“Squinting at the tree and hot cocoa after?”

“Oh! Yes, I suppose so. It’s a good tradition to start, don’t you think?”

“It is,” he nodded. “What traditions did you have growing up? With your mum?”

Rose shrugged. “None, really. Mum always made a big meal, and Mickey came over with his Nan, before she died. He still came over after, too.”

Ian looked confused. “I thought he’d moved his Nan into his house not long before you got here?”

“His Nan is alive here. She died in my universe, like my dad. She’s the reason he stayed when the Doctor and I came. Well,” she amended, “she’s part of the reason. I think it was more that he felt useful here.” She gave a wistful smile. “He wasn’t the tin dog.” 

Now that she’d thought of the Doctor, she was assailed with memories of him - and of last Christmas. 

“What is it?”

“Was just thinking of last Christmas. I had left Mum behind to go save the Doctor in June, flying into almost certain death. As far as she knew I was dead. I didn’t die, although the Doctor died to save me. Well,” she paused, sounding like her second Doctor in her own ears, “I say he died, but he actually regenerated.”

“Regenerated?”

“When he's dying, his er, his body, it repairs itself. It changes, and he becomes a new man. Same memories and everything, but different looks and personality.”

Ian looked like he was struggling to take all this in, but she appreciated that he didn’t seem to think she was completely barking.

“What happened when he regenerated?”

“I didn’t believe he was the same man, at first,” she said, smiling a little, then the pain of those terrifying hours he’d slept while millions of people stood on rooftops coming back made her eyes well with tears. “The regeneration had gone wrong and he kind of went into a coma. Of course this happened on Christmas Eve, and Earth was being invaded. We were attacked by the Christmas tree.”

He did question that. “Attacked by the fucking Christmas tree?”

She couldn’t help but grin, even though two tears fell and she wiped them away hurriedly. She’d cried enough. “Yeah, a Christmas tree. Then we got sucked up onto the Sycorax ship. He saved the day, of course, but he was different after that. Wonderful, and still the man I loved, but… different, too. I loved him completely, but never stopped missing my big-eared Doctor.” She broke then, covering her face with her hands so Ian wouldn’t see and letting herself cry. It didn’t last long. She wouldn’t let it. After a minute, she wiped her face, sniffing. “I’m sorry. I still have moments sometimes.”

Ian looked like he was about to reach for her, and more than a small part of her wished he would. 

“Are you alright, Rose?”

Rose nodded, trying to smile. “Yeah. I’m good.” 

Neither of them spoke for a minute while Rose composed herself, then Ian said softly, “Think about it, though. This time next year, you’ll have a little girl to share Christmas with.”

She smiled softly. “I think you mean little boy.”

He grinned back at her. “We’ll see. I think you’ll find that I’m seldom wrong.”

Rose chuckled. “Except when we’re talking about The Yard.”

“Oi!”

“Admit it. I’m much better at figuring out the bad guy.”

“I admit nothing.”

She giggled, her momentary breakdown forgotten, touching her tongue to her teeth. “I think you’ll find that I’m the one who’s seldom wrong.”

He smirked at her, and her belly swooped again. Why was it doing that?


	17. Chapter 17

16 December 2011  
Week Sixteen

"Alright. Everything looks great. I’ll see you again next month."

The woman lying on the table smoothed her hand over the swell of her stomach as she smiled up at him. "Thank you, Doctor."

Ian stepped out into the hallway and nearly ran over Clara, who was struggling hard not to let a grin of epic proportions overtake her face.

"What?" he barked when she didn’t say anything.

" _Rose_ is here to see you."

He looked down the hallway behind Clara as though she’d appear from thin air and Clara’s grin only widened. "Where?"

"I put her in your office."

Shoving the file he held at Clara, he turned to the right and hurried to his office, slowing long enough to knock on the door before opening it so that he wouldn’t startle her.

Rose stood, and her smile brightened his whole day. She was wearing a floral top and a pair of jeans, the swell of her stomach just pronounced enough that strangers would strongly suspect she was expecting. "Hi." 

"Hi," he returned, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. "I don’t have a lot of time. If I’d known you were coming I’d have cleared my schedule."

Rose shook her head as she bent down to her purse where it sat on the floor beside the chair. "I won’t be here long." She pulled out the fetal doppler he’d left at hers the night before and offered it to him. On a whim he’d pocketed it on his way out of the office, and she’d been thrilled for an extra opportunity to listen to the baby’s heartbeat. "I just wanted to return this to you." 

"You didn’t have to come all this way for that," he said as he took it from her. Not that he minded - he was already planning to ‘forget’ it again in the hopes she’d pay him another visit.

"It was no trouble."

"Well, since you're here, I have lunch in half an hour... want to grab a bite?"

"I didn’t want to be a bother."

"It’s no bother. We have to fucking eat, right?" He waited for her to nod. "So, you stay here and I’ll come back and get you when I’m done?"

"Sure. Yeah."

"I’ll get back here as quick as I can."

She smiled at him - a genuine smile, not the one she wore when she was putting up a brave front - and he felt his knees wobble a bit.

"Take your time. I downloaded another Jack Nolan last night, so I’ll just be reading that."

"Which one?"

" _‘Heaven Sent’_." 

"That one is fucking spectacular. You sit here and read, I’ll get back as soon as I can and we’ll go get… Chinese?"

"I’m dying for a burger and chips."

"Burger and chips it is." He hesitated by the door for just a second. His impulse was to hug her, kiss her, touch her in some way before he left, but he snapped back to reality. That couldn’t happen. "I’ll be back soon."

Rose waved and he stepped into the corridor. Once the door was closed he leaned his head against the wall in defeat. She had him wrapped around her finger, he was madly in love with her, and all he was doing by being around her was fucking torturing himself. He needed to create some distance, needed to stay away from her. 

Ian snorted, standing up straight and shaking his head. He couldn’t stay away from her if he fucking tried. And, if he was being honest with himself, he didn’t even want to try. Just being in her orbit would be enough. It would have to be enough. 

He did not rush through his eleven o’clock. As badly as he wanted to return to Rose’s side, the professional in him refused to allow it. So, he sat with his patient, a woman going through the last trimester of her second pregnancy alone after her husband ran off with his secretary, for as long as it took to answer all of her questions. She was understandably more anxious this time around than she had been a few years earlier, and it further strengthened his resolve to stay at Rose’s side for as long as she let him. 

The young woman was noticeably calmer by the time he shook her hand at the end of the visit. Feeling pretty good about himself, he left the exam room and scratched a few quick notes into the patient file before returning it to Clara’s desk. She was nowhere to be found, so he wrote her a message that he was going out to lunch, to call him if anything came up, and then he made his way to his office.

Rose was right where he’d left her, and she looked up from her mobile when he tapped on the door and let himself in. She smiled up at him, and once again he struggled against the urge to go to her and show her some small measure of the feelings he had for her. But before he could lose his mind entirely, she glanced back down.

“Enjoying the book?” he asked.

“Mmhm. I love the way this one focuses on the main character.”

“It’s quite a departure from the writer’s usual storytelling. Got rave reviews, that one did.” He slipped off his lab coat and hung it up on the coatrack by the door. “Give me one second and I’ll be ready to go.”

“Sure.”

Next Ian walked over to his computer and closed the files he’d been working on earlier that morning. Then he patted his pockets to make sure he had both his keys and wallet. Though he reminded himself that taking Rose out to lunch wasn’t a _date_ , it wouldn’t do to get all the way to the restaurant only to realize he didn’t have any money with him.

“Okay. I’m ready if you are.” Ian looked up to see Rose standing, her purse hanging from her shoulder and a ready smile on her lips.

“Yep. Let’s go.”

He started to reach for her, but pulled his hand back to his side before it stretched very far. ‘Uncle’ Ian did not get the pleasure of taking Rose Tyler’s hand. And maybe if he told himself that often enough eventually it would begin to sink in. He did help her into her coat before shrugging into his own, because that was simply common sense. It was fucking freezing out there.

They stepped out into the hallway together, and Ian took a moment to lock his office door behind him. When he turned around again, Rose was rooted to the spot, her eyes affixed on the painting hanging on the opposite wall. He’d chosen to put the one with the purple sky and yellow grass there since that was the one she’d told him about and every time he saw it he’d be reminded of that day. Now he worried that the visual might be too much for her.

“Everybody loves them,” he told her, his voice gentle. “A few of the patients have asked about ordering prints.”

Rose breathed a tiny laugh. It was better than tears, but he wondered how close she was to breaking down. Her hormones were certainly doing her no favors in that regard. Though her eyes seemed dry to him, she rubbed one with the tips of her fingers. Her voice wavered ever so slightly, and Ian could tell she was deliberately trying to infuse her tone with humor, “The newest craze to sweep through the art community: Plains of Cottev, £149.”

“Why not? Have you seen what passes for art these days? I meant it when I said you could do it professionally. If the questions we’ve been getting are any indication, you’d be quite a hit.”

She looked up at him over her shoulder. Her eyes were red-rimmed but she wasn’t crying. “No, I like the teaching idea better. I’ve been calling around, gauging interest. A couple of the centers asked to see my portfolio, so I’m going to put together a few things to show them.”

It wasn’t much, but like the fact that she hadn’t started crying over the painting, it was a good thing, a step in the right direction. If teaching art kept her busy, kept her mind on something she enjoyed, then it could help with the healing process.

“That’s great news.” He inclined his head towards the exit and she moved with him when he started walking. “What kinds of things were you thinking of including? More of these?”

They were coming up to the rainforest painting, hanging on the wall next to the back of Margaret’s desk, the last thing before the exit, and Rose reached out to run her fingers along the bottom of the canvas as they passed it.

“I’m going to lunch,” he announced before Rose could answer, and Margaret nodded, not looking up until they were almost through the door, her eyes widening when she noticed that he wasn’t alone.

Rose returned to their conversation as soon as they stepped out of the building. “I was thinking more along the lines of bowls of fruit, basic shapes, some figure drawing. Beginner stuff. I can’t really include anything like those unless I plan to teach abstract art.”

“Sure you can. Change the colors to something more recognizable and no one will know the difference. They’re not that… _unusual_. You’ve seen so many amazing, wonderful things, why teach the same boring stuff as some prick who’s hacked off at the world because he thinks he’s the next fucking Picasso and teaching kids is ‘settling’? These kids, a lot of them are never going to venture any farther away from their homes than summer hols in fucking Blackpool. You can give them so much more than that.”

When Rose didn’t answer right away, he glanced down to see her staring up at him, but before he could figure out if he’d just stuck his foot in his mouth or not, someone walking around them bumped her and pushed her into him. He immediately reached out to grab her and steady her on her feet.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. No harm done.”

Ian glared at the swiftly moving sea of parkas, trying to pick out the person who had been so careless, but it was impossible and standing still was only inviting more of the same. A little farther up the pavement, he could see the edge of the sign for the restaurant that was their destination. 

“Come on. Let’s get you inside where it’s warm.”

A few minutes later, they followed a small group into the restaurant and Ian grabbed one of the card-style menus for Rose to look over while the ladies in front of them made up their minds and placed their orders. 

Rose’s eyes were wide when she looked at him over the top of the menu. “Now that we’re here, I can’t decide what I want. There are toppings on here I didn’t even know were options!”

Ian grinned back at her. “You might want to save some of the more _adventurous_ choices for later. I’d hate for anything to upset your stomach. We can always come back another time.”

“But it all looks so good,” she mock-whined.

The ladies moved away from the ordering station and the two of them stepped forward. By the time they’d finished placing their order a few minutes later, the boy who’d helped them looked a little punch-drunk from all of the smiles Rose had thrown his way.

“I liked his name,” Rose hissed as they walked deeper into the restaurant to find an open table.

“Oh?” Ian glanced over his shoulder at the boy but couldn’t remember seeing a name tag. 

“Yeah, ‘Cameron’. It works for either a boy or a girl. It’s so cute. I’m going to put it on the list as soon as I get home.”

Ian was particularly grateful that they’d found a table and he was standing behind Rose helping her out of her coat so she couldn’t see the look of disgust on his face. Having grown up in Scotland, he’d known plenty of fucking Camerons and not one of them had endeared themselves to him enough that he’d want to name a baby after them. This was one of the rare occasions where he hoped ‘pregnancy brain’ took over and she forgot about the name before she got home.

“What do you think?” she asked, looking up at him over her shoulder.

 _Well, fuck._ He pulled her chair out for her and waited while she sat then walked around to the other chair and took a moment to slip off his own coat so that he didn’t have to look at her while he answered. “Sure, if you like it.”

“Great!”

He sat but before he could say anything else a waitress arrived with their order. In the midst of figuring out which hamburger belonged to who, Ian’s eyes bulged when he caught a glimpse of her name tag. Smirking, he tried to direct Rose’s attention to it and when she finally caught on she covered her mouth to hide her smile.

“Thank you,” she said to the waitress. “Everything looks delicious.”

When they were alone again, Rose turned to him, her eyes dancing with amusement. “How could you?”

“I like it,” he argued, knowing that his barely contained mirth belied the sincerity of his words. “Just imagine sweet little --”

“Do not complete that sentence, Ian Docherty. Don’t even think it. No child of mine will ever be named _that_ , do you hear me?”

Chuckling, he picked up a chip and took a bite. 

“You know, I’m surprised neither of us has suggested naming the baby after Jackie yet. It works either way, too, doesn’t it? Jacqueline for a girl, Jack for a boy. I bet your mum would be thrilled.”

Rose shot it down with a sad look. "I… had a friend named Jack. He died. Well, the Doctor claimed otherwise, but... He died."

"I'm sorry," Ian said, and just sat quietly for a moment. When the silence grew oppressive, he changed the subject. "I don't know why we're bothering to discuss fucking boy names. This baby is a girl."

"We’re discussing boy names because it’s a boy."

“Sorry, Rose. I hate to break it to you, but you’re wrong this time. And I think you’ll find that I’m usually right,” he grinned. 

“Are you always this cocky, too?”

“Yep.”

She bit her tongue, and his stomach swooped. “Good to know.”

~*~O~*~

“You’re late,” Clara admonished as he brushed by her.

Ian said nothing and continued on to his office. There was nothing _to_ say; he’d lost track of time while eating and then had to see Rose safely into a cab before he could return to the office. He exchanged his winter coat for his lab coat and turned quickly, nearly slamming into Clara who was standing in the doorway behind him.

“Here’s the file. She’s been waiting more than twenty minutes. Get your arse in there.”

He hurried down the hallway, resembling, he was afraid, what had once been described as a penguin with its arse on fire, screeching to a halt when he came to the exam room where his patient waited. Looking down at the name on the file, he was grateful to see that it was one of his more understanding patients, so he pushed open the door and threw on his best smile.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Thomas. Sorry I’m late, another patient needed my attention. How are we doing this year?”

It was a routine annual exam and nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary, so he was done and back in his office within twenty minutes.

"Soooo," Clara said with all of the subtlety of a jackhammer as she followed him into the room, " _Rose_."

"What about her?"

"‘What about her?’ Where should I begin?"

"How about by handing me the file for my two o’clock appointment?"

"You’ve got a few minutes. She’s still in the loo." Clara waited a few seconds but when he said nothing she started again. "She seems sweet."

He didn’t look up from his desk. "She’s very sweet."

"You seem fond of her."

"I am," he agreed, slowly and with caution.

Clara finally got to the fucking point. "She’s pregnant."

"My two o’clock?" he asked, being deliberately obtuse. "I certainly fucking hope so. That is what we do here."

"No, _Rose_."

He finally looked up at her. "Could you stop fucking saying her name like that?"

"If you would just answer the question…"

"Technically you haven’t asked a fucking question, Clara."

"She’s pregnant."

"Still not a question, but yes."

"Is it yours?"

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "No." 

"But you want it to be." He glared at her, but she didn’t flinch. "She’s more than just a friend. Or, I should say, you want her to be more than a friend."

"It doesn’t matter," he said, shuffling papers unnecessarily and with more force than needed. "It’s not going to happen."

"The father? I didn’t see a ring."

"What the hell is it to you?"

"You’re my friend and I care. What happened to the father of Rose’s baby?"

He shook his head. "Gone. But she’s still in love with him. Even if there weren’t a million other fucking reasons why we can’t, there’d still be that one."

Thankfully, they heard the door to the loo open, and Clara had to go prep his two o’clock, so he was spared any further interrogation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have hit five hundred(!!!) comments on this fic. Thank you, thank you, thank you for that. Every single comment we get brightens our day and helps us keep going. So thank you. <3


	18. Chapter 18

22 December 2011  
Week Seventeen 

Rose heard the knock on the door and smiled. _Ian_. Even though they’d only been getting together like this for a few weeks, they’d already established a routine. He would come straight from work, the two of them would decide on something to eat and call it in, they’d chat about this or that until the food arrived, and then they’d have dinner together in front of the telly while watching back episodes of The Yard. The show was on winter hiatus, so it was a good time for Rose to catch up. She was just starting series three. If she was being honest, she could have been farther along but she much preferred watching the show with Ian. She couldn’t possibly explain why that was. It just was. 

Smiling, she went to the door to let him in and found him standing on the other side, smiling back at her and holding a large gift bag. She held the door open for him to come in, one eyebrow quirked. “What have you got there?”

Ian was pulling off his heavy winter coat and draping it over the back of one of the chairs at her kitchen table where he’d set the gift. “Who, me?” he said with exaggerated innocence. “Keys, wallet, mobile… the usual.”

“Haha, smartarse,” Rose snarked and he beamed, looking proud of himself. She tilted her head towards the bag. “I was asking after that. What is it?”

“Tower of London.” Rose snorted and he went on. “Not the whole Tower, mind. Just the section on the right when you’re looking at it from the Thames. Toting around the whole thing starts to really hurt your fucking shoulder after a while.”

She giggled, crossing her arms across her chest. “My, but you’re cheeky tonight.”

“I try.”

“Do we need to walk up to the mansion so you can give Pete your gift?”

“It’s not for Pete. It’s for you.”

Her eyebrows shot to her hairline. “Me?”

“You.”

Rose smiled at him, almost wary, and his returning smile was bright. Ian watched her take a hesitant step towards the table. She cast glances at him every couple of steps until she got to the bag and hooked a finger on the edge, peering into it. “What is it?”

“I told you. Tower of London. Go big or go home, right?”

She giggled then stepped back. “I have something for you, too.” Ian’s gift was sitting under the tree - one of only a handful she’d bought: the only people she’d had to buy for were her mum, Ian, Pete and Mickey. She picked up the wrapped box and brought it to him. “Here you go.”

“What is it?” He shook the box a little, holding it next to his ear.

“Well, it’s not going to _tell_ you what it is, daftie. Why try and listen to it?”

“Oh, Rose. Don’t you know that half the fun of Christmas is shaking the gifts?”

Her nose wrinkled a little. “No…”

“It’s true,” he told her. “Fergus and I used to drive Auntie spare, we’d shake them so much.”

“Sounds like you nearly drove your Auntie spare all the time anyway,” she said with a grin.

“Yeah, but we were extra fucking obnoxious at Christmas. I was worse about it than Fergus was, but we were both pretty damn bad. One year…” He laughed to himself at the memory, walking to her couch with his gift in his hand. Rose followed. 

“The Christmas when we were twelve, Auntie and Uncle had had enough. So Uncle Dougan wrapped up a couple of things that would make unusual sounds when shaken together, random shit like a screwdriver and one of Auntie’s shoes and a pair of matchbox big rig trucks he nicked from our room. Then he taped twenty quid to the bottom of the lid. Fergus and I each had one sitting under the tree in bright red paper with a gold bow. And we both went completely fucking barmy that year while we were trying to figure out what they were giving us. Meanwhile, Auntie and Uncle were hiding in the kitchen, snickering at us.

“Christmas morning, Fergus and I ran downstairs and both of us grabbed the red boxes first, giving them one last fucking shake. Then we tore into our gifts. Neither of us saw the money at first, we just saw the weird shit. My Uncle Dougan laughed until he couldn’t breathe and had a coughing fit. Then he laughed some more when he got himself together.”

Rose giggled: Ian’s happiness while recounting the memory was contagious. “What about your Auntie?”

“It was the hardest I ever saw my Auntie laugh. She’s a wonderful woman, very kind and loving, do pretty much fucking anything to help you. But she’s no comedian, so that laughing spell was a rare thing for her. Don’t get me wrong,” he said earnestly, looking at Rose as though he needed to correct himself. ”She’s not a dour old woman by any stretch.”

“I can’t imagine living with you and being dour,” Rose grinned. Ian’s eyes shuttered a bit, and she wondered what she’d done wrong. 

Deciding to change the subject, she said, “Do you have any nieces or nephews? Does Fergus have any children?”

Ian shook his head. “Nah. He never married. For a while he was just enjoying his freewheeling bachelor days, but around the time we were thirty, he picked up a woman in a pub while we were out one night. The woman had made a fucking pass at me earlier in the night while Fergus was playing darts, and I told him so. Tried to warn him that she was just on the pull, out for a good time. The great dipshit didn’t care. She gave him a look, he smiled at her, and that was that, they toddled off to… um, to have a good time. But they kept seeing each other. Six months later he proposed to her. Six months after _that_ and two weeks before he was to be married, he found out that she’d been having multiple affairs, some of them almost from the beginning. Fergus was crushed. I was livid.”

Rose was horrified. How utterly heartbreaking. She’d never even met Fergus and wanted to give him a hug. “What did you do?”

“Fergus went home and confronted her about it. She fucking denied everything, the lying bi-...” He hesitated, and Rose had no doubt about what he was about to say - and that the woman deserved it. But he caught himself. “...cow. He called her bluff, she insisted she was innocent, but finally she confessed. He told her to have all her shit moved out within twenty-four hours or he’d heave it in the garden.” Ian snorted. “I didn’t even want him to give her the twenty-four hours, I was ready to heave all her shit right then, but the poor bastard loved her.” He was quiet for a moment. “I’ve only ever known Fergus to lose his temper three or maybe four times in his life. He’s the nicest, most mild-mannered, funniest bloke you’d ever want to meet. He’d cut off his fucking arm and give it to you if he thought you had a need. That’s what made her betrayal so fucking terrible, that she could do that to such a good person.”

Rose wasn’t sure what to say and the silence stretched. After a couple of moments, Ian snapped out of it and gave her a bright smile. “Well, go on then. You’ve got a present to open.”

“So do you!” she said, her tongue coming out to the corner of her mouth. “You go first. I’m too nervous to wait.”

He looked ready to say something, then shook it off and shrugged. “Far be it from me to turn down a gift.” Shaking it one more time and making Rose giggle, he started tearing paper off the box. That done, he popped the tape holding the box closed and opened it, pulling back the tissue paper. Rose bit her lip, a bundle of nerves, and waited. 

“Rose,” he breathed, then pulled the painting out. “This is absolutely fucking gorgeous.”

“You like it?”

“I love it. Where is it?”

“I did a Google search for images of Scotland. I don’t even remember the name of the place I painted now,” she laughed a little, still blushing. “I just thought… you liked the other paintings of places you’d never been, maybe you’d like a painting of home.”

“I do. This is fucking brilliant. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, pleased that he seemed to genuinely like her gift.

“Now you go on. Open yours. I may or may not be a little fucking nervous about yours, as well.”

Rose grinned. “You’re not sure?”

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. I cannot confirm or deny.”

She giggled, then dug into the bag, pulling out the paper and putting it on the couch beside her. There was a large… something in the bag, but it was wrapped in tissue paper as well. She pulled the bulky item out onto her lap, letting the bag fall at her feet. A quick glance at Ian told her that he certainly _looked_ anxious, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she tore the remaining paper away to find --

“A pink blanket,” she said softly, looking down at the gift in her lap.

“Yeah,” Ian said, and even through the emotional maelstrom she was feeling, she could tell he sounded unsure. “I got the softest, warmest one I could find. You had said that you missed your pink blanket and, well, I thought maybe having one here might make you feel more at home.” He paused for a second and looked away. “Until you leave to go back, that is.”

She should have addressed his belief that she would be leaving. She knew she should, but her mind was awhirl. It was far and away the most thoughtful gift anyone had ever given her, and she silently thanked the heavens that she’d met this amazing, daft, sweary man.

“Thank you, Ian.”

“Is it alright?”

Rose nodded, even though tears had gathered. “It is. It’s brilliant. I’ll keep it on the couch so I can use it all the time.”

Ian looked pleased and she was glad. Then a pair of tears spilled from her eyes and his expression shifted. “Rose, I didn’t mean to make you cry… I can take it back…”

She shook her head. “No. These aren’t sad tears. I love it, I really do. It’s just...no one has ever been that thoughtful before and, well, hormones.”

He chuckled, and she figured if anyone understood pregnant women’s hormones, it would be him. “There’s something else in there,” he said gently. Rose wiped her eyes and peered into the bag. “It probably fell down to the bottom.”

Rose moved the remaining tissue paper and spotted an envelope lying on the bottom of the bag. She bent over to grab it, trying not to grunt when her growing belly got in her way. Sitting back up, she flipped the envelope over. She expected to see her name and was oddly disappointed that he hadn’t written it there. Brushing it off, she opened the envelope.

“Tickets?”

He scooted towards her just a bit. “Yeah, to the theater. You seemed to have a good time before, I thought maybe we could go again. Get you out of the house.”

She was surprised that she found that idea appealing. “That’d be great,” she told him with a bright, genuine smile. It felt good. “What show is it?”

“It’s called _The Mousetrap_ , and it’s been running for over fifty years,” Ian sounded excited, and it made her smile brighter, knowing she’d eased his mind. “Always has stellar reviews. It’s a mystery, and I figured we’d probably enjoy it since we both like The Yard.”

“It’s brilliant,” she told him. “Both of them, brilliant. Thank you so much.”

Without thinking she leaned forward and pulled him into a hug. He hugged her in return but seemed tense somehow, and Rose didn’t know why.

~*~O~*~

25 December 2011

Ian was rather pleased with the events of the day. Christmas was, for the most part, going his way. He raised his head a little bit and peered into the tin of fudge that was laying on his chest, reaching in with two fingers to select his next piece. His feet were crossed at the ankles, propped on the arm of the couch he was occupying, and his toes bounced in his new socks. 

Then a grin spread all over his face when he heard his cousin coming that way, calling out to him - unaware that Ian was already in the lounge. “Oi! Bampot! Mam’s leaving to go to the McDowells’ and deliver Christmas --” He stopped in the doorway, staring at Ian. 

“-- dinner.”

Graham Fergus Fitzgerald - Fergus, as Ian called him - was holding his annual tin of caramel popcorn, clearly prepared to get on the couch. Ian just grinned at him, smug. Fergus scowled back - six foot three inches of solidly-built Scotsman - as if to intimidate Ian, who snorted at the attempt. Fergus took great pride in the three inches of height he held over Ian and the fact that he was built like the rugby player he used to be rather than Ian’s lean runner’s build. But despite their differences, they were evenly matched, always had been, and both knew it.

He stood there silently while Ian crossed his arms behind his head and bounced his foot until they heard the door shut, signaling that Auntie was gone and they were in the clear to swear.

“Get up, ye twat.”

“Fuck you,” Ian said with a little half smile without looking up from his tin of fudge.

“I mean it. Move your big, hairy arse.”

He snorted and bit into a piece. “I’m not the one with a big, hairy arse. That’s you, ye sasquatch.”

“My arse isn’t hairy!”

“Took to waxing, did you?”

Fergus scowled. “You cheated and you know you fecking cheated. You said you were going to the loo!”

“And you fell for it, just like you do every time. Now shut yer fuckhole and put the telly on something decent to watch.”

“You wanna pick the film? Get off the damn couch.”

Ian picked out another piece of fudge with exaggerated peacefulness and cheer. “Nope.”

Before Fergus could say anything in reply Ian’s mobile went off. He dug it out of his pocket, thoroughly ignoring his grumbling cousin, and unlocked the screen to check the message.

~Rose: _Graham says Happy Christmas!_

Ian looked at the message on his mobile, confused. He glanced up at Fergus, who was making himself comfortable in the recliner and muttering while he scrolled through the television options, and wondered for a split second before he dismissed it. It was incredibly unlikely, and decided he’d rather not open that can of worms. 

~Ian: _Happy Christmas to you. Who is Graham?_  
~Rose: _I’m trying it out for the baby. What do you think?_

He snorted a little laugh but Fergus seemed to be roundly ignoring him. For now. The great arse would be giving him shite again soon enough.

~Ian: _Graham is my dumbshit cousin’s name. I wouldn’t recommend naming your baby after that tit._  
~Rose: _oh, I’m sorry. I forgot. I seem to forget a lot of things lately._  
~Ian: _perfectly normal, don’t be sorry. also, this baby is a girl._  
~Rose: _nope. it’s a boy. I can feel it in my bones. :)_

He grinned and tapped out another message. 

~Ian: _mother’s intuition?_  
~Rose: _*shrug* just a hunch_  
~Ian: _you shouldn’t trust hunches. that could be fucking dangerous._  
~Rose: _you’re only saying that because I usually figure out The Yard before you. too much ego ;)_  
~Ian: _Oi!_

He chuckled, loving her cheek. Fergus looked over at him. “What’s so funny?”

Ian wasn’t about to tell him, no chance in hell. So he deflected. “What cinematic turd did you land on?”

“Doesn’t matter, you’re stuck watching it. I’ll be choosing the next film, too. And the next and the next until you get your big stupid arse off the couch.”

He made a rude gesture and the mobile went off again.

~Rose: _am I bothering you? I can leave you alone_  
~Ian: _you’re not bothering me at all. Fergus has put on some insipid film that I think he just chose to punish me_  
~Rose: _punish you?_  
~Ian: _yeah. I beat him to the couch._  
~Rose: _...the couch?_  
~Ian: _Auntie has the most comfortable couch in the fucking world, so if we’re going to be in the lounge together, whoever gets to it first gets it_  
~Ian: _it’s usually me, because he’s as fucking slow as he is dumb_  
~Rose: _why don’t you, I don’t know, *both* sit on the couch?_  
~Ian: _we wouldn’t have anything to fight over then_  
~Rose: _LOL_

He snorted a laugh, knowing he’d made _her_ laugh, earning a sideways glance from Fergus. “The fuck are you looking at?” 

“Who are you talking to?”

“None of your fucking business.” 

“If you’re so busy having sex via text message, you can just bugger off. I don’t want to listen to you beat the bishop.”

“Alright, dipshit. First, it’s called ‘sexting’. Second, I’m not doing anything of the sort.”

“How do you know what it’s called?”

“I’m a fucking gynecologist, ye fucking nimnole!”

“And?”

“ _And_ , as a result, I’m rather well-acquainted with the many ways one can have sex.”

Fergus snorted. “Good thing you know that through your job, you’d never know it through your personal life.”

“Oi!”

“I bet it blows dust when you wank.”

“You fucking --”

“It does, doesn’t it?”

Ian’s mobile went off in his hand again and Fergus smirked, having won that round. 

~Rose: _are you having a good holiday?_  
~Ian: _so far. my auntie made fudge, it’s amazing. the best part of Christmas every year. Fergus doesn’t like it, so I get it all._  
~Rose: _mmm...you’re making me crave chocolate_  
~Ian: _maybe I’ll save you a piece. just one though_  
~Rose: _lol, you’re so generous_  
~Ian: _I try._

“Now you’re grinning like an idiot,” Fergus complained. “Who are you talking to? Your boyfriend?”

“Ripley’s Believe It Or Not. I heard they buy weird shit, and you’re the weirdest hunk of shit I know.”

Fergus rolled his eyes and turned back to the telly. Ian raised his head to look into the tin of fudge again, selecting a piece. He should probably put it away if he was going to share with Rose… Oh shit, he hadn’t asked about _her_ Christmas. 

Fairly certain that was rude and _absolutely_ certain that he did _not_ want to be rude to Rose, he picked up the mobile and tapped out a message. 

~Ian: _what about you? was Father Christmas good to you?_  
~Rose: _not bad. Pete got me a tablet computer. Mum gave me gift certificates to a few spas around town to pamper myself. she said to decide which one I like and become a regular there_

Ian was pleased to hear about the tablet. He’d planted that bug in Pete’s ear so Rose would have something to do art on, but hadn’t been sure if Pete would take him seriously or not. But Jackie’s idea of relaxing at a spa was a good one, too.

~Ian: _pampering yourself is a good idea_  
~Rose: _I can paint my own toes_  
~Ian: _you may want someone else to do that for you in a few months._  
~Rose: _that’s what Mum said._

“You want to go to the pub?”

Ian recrossed his ankles. “Might do. Is there a pub open?”

“The Fox and Badger opened at three, closes regular time. They usually have karaoke, but not tonight.”

“Thank Christ,” Ian muttered. He glanced at his watch. It was half three, but he wasn’t all that interested in going anywhere just then. It was too early in the day to be drinking and besides, he’d won the couch. He wasn’t ready to give it up yet. But going later wasn’t out of the question.

“Auntie will raise seven levels of hell if we come home drunk, _especially_ on Christmas.”

“So we’ll go back to my house instead, ye wee fud. Your flight doesn’t leave tomorrow until late afternoon. There’ll be time to sleep it off, come back here, see Mam, eat, then I’ll take you to the airport so we can be shot of you.”

Ian’s mobile went off again and Fergus threw up his hands, muttering about Ian and his texting.

“Quit your bitching, Fergus, Christ. My third trimester patients aren’t the whiny pansies you are.”

~Rose: _oh! I meant to tell you! I got a ‘job’! :)_  
~Ian: _a job?_  
~Rose: _There’s a community center near the estates that wants to start offering art classes :)_

Ian felt himself stiffen with anxiety. He hadn’t realized that she’d been contacting facilities on the other side of the barrier. He’d just assumed when she’d mentioned it that she was staying on the side where her safety would be assured. Trust Rose to ignore that. The estates were no place for a woman, especially a pregnant heiress, and he knew he’d lose his mind with worry over her taking a cab there and back every day. Just thinking about it made his head hurt. 

~Ian: _are you sure that’s the best place for you?_  
~Rose: _it’ll be great! I love kids._  
~Ian: _that’s not what I meant. the estates can get...rough._  
~Rose: _I grew up on the estates, remember? I can handle myself._

He started typing a response back to that, but Rose was apparently done with that line of thought. 

~Rose: _I’ll be teaching M,W,F and every other Sat. I start on 9 Jan. isn’t that brilliant?_

Her excitement and happiness was practically radiating through the screen, and there was nothing he could do in the face of it. He’d come up with some way to keep her safe. But for now…

~Ian: _I’m proud of you. you’ll be brilliant._  
~Rose: _yeah?_

Through the pit in his stomach, he answered her in the affirmative. Then he sat up and threw a decorative pillow at Fergus, hitting him upside his head. His cousin’s yelp of surprise and subsequent swearing made it better. 

“Get up off your arse, ye great dungheap. Grab your shoes and coat. I need a lager.”


	19. Chapter 19

28 December 2011  
Week Eighteen

"Alright, Carmen. The baby is crowning, three more good pushes and your son will be here. Alright? Stay with me."

The young woman on the table in front of him was panting and sweating, her face contorted with pain, blonde hair plastered to her face by sweat, her eyes wide. She held tight to the hand of her mother, who was doing an excellent job as a coach. The father was absent, and Ian did his best to push the idea of Rose giving birth with only her mother as support away from his mind. It wouldn’t come to that. He wouldn’t let it.

"Here we go, Carmen… _push!_ "

The woman curled around her belly and closed her eyes, grimacing, pushing with all her might. Within ninety seconds Ian held up a screaming baby boy, then laid him on his crying mother’s chest. A moment later he delivered the placenta and handed it off to a nurse to be disposed of.

He congratulated them, stripped off his gown and gloves, threw them into the trash, glanced back to make sure the nurses were doing what was needed, and left the room unnoticed. There would be thanks later, when he did his check up on Carmen the next day, but for now he’d done his job and there were other places for him to be. 

Sitting at the nurses station he started the required paperwork. His mobile vibrated in his pocket, but he didn’t have time to check it just then. He hoped it was Rose - she checked in periodically throughout the day - but he needed to stay focused until he got done. He’d check on the way to the office.

He didn’t hear Joan approaching him until she was standing at his elbow, her hand resting on the desk so that her fingers were mere inches away from his arm.

“Afternoon, Doctor,” she said, her voice pitched so that no one beyond the two of them would hear what she was saying. “Got plans for New Years?”

“I do, actually. Pete’s hosting a party.”

Her index finger stretched out between them, not touching, but seeking to close the distance, and he had to fight the urge to move his arm. “Sounds like fun.”

Ian hummed noncommittally. She was angling for an invitation which was not forthcoming. They’d dated casually for eight months and been… whatever they were before Rose walked into his life for the last four years, but he’d never introduced her to Pete. He certainly wasn’t about to arrive at his best friend’s house with her on his arm _now_.

“Hey, Joan, can you come look at something in 403?” One of the other nurses had arrived at the nurses station and Ian breathed a sigh of relief when Joan walked away to handle whatever she was needed for.

He finished his paperwork as quickly as he could, determined to be gone before she returned. Just as he was wrapping up and starting to leave, another one of the nurses stopped him. 

"Dr. Docherty, Ms. Greer is still bleeding."

Ian didn’t recognize the nurse - she was young and obviously new - and he smirked a little. "She just delivered an eight and a half pound baby. Of course she’s fucking bleeding."

The young nurse didn’t seem perturbed by his attitude or his swearing. "I understand that, Doctor, but she’s bleeding abnormally heavily."

He fought the urge to roll his eyes. The delivery had been textbook-perfect. Nothing unusual about it at all. Regardless, if a nurse was reporting that she was bleeding abnormally, he needed to check. 

Striding into the room, his brows furrowed when he got a look at Carmen. She looked tired, a little pale, but he didn’t think it was anything to be too concerned over. Another nurse was cleaning up bloody pads. She’d been right - there was a bit more blood than he was comfortable with.

Her mother spotted him and stood up. "Doctor, why is she bleeding?"

He smiled reassuringly and walked over to the bed where Carmen lay. "Bleeding after a delivery is normal. Have you noticed yourself still having contractions?" he asked Carmen. The young woman nodded. "That’s your body’s way of closing off the blood vessels that fed the placenta up until half an hour ago. This is a bit more blood than usual, but I’m not alarmed as of yet." He checked his watch - 2:15. "I’m headed back to the office, but I’ll be in touch with the nurses and plan on checking on you tomorrow, alright?"

The two women nodded and Ian left. He went back to the nurses station and made another note in Carmen’s chart, then caught the nurse as she was passing. 

"Keep an eye on Greer. Call me if I’m needed."

"Yes sir," the nurse said, and Ian nodded, satisfied. 

He didn’t bother getting his regular clothes from the car so he could change out of his scrubs to go back to the office. That would take time, and he had appointments for the rest of the day - appointments he was eager to get through. It was Thursday, and he’d spent the last four Thursdays at Rose’s cottage watching their favorite show. Hopes were high that he’d be spending tonight with her, as well. 

Speaking of, there was a text he’d gotten a while ago that needed checking. He pulled out his mobile and smiled when he saw Rose’s name.

~Rose: _I think I understand what you meant by ‘butterflies’._  
~Ian: _Oh yeah? Having some flutters?_  
~Rose: _just a few._  
~Ian: _You’ll start feeling them more and more often as she gets bigger_  
~Rose: _You’re so convinced this baby is a girl…_  
~Ian: _I laid a tenner on it, remember?_  
~Rose: _You’re funny. Dinner at mine tonight?_  
~Ian: _What are you craving?_  
~Rose: _Chinese dumplings_  
~Ian: _of course you are. Have to watch the sodium, Rose_  
~Rose: _you’re a killjoy_  
~Ian: _that’s what you get for being friends with an OBGYN while pregnant._  
~Rose: _:P_  
~Ian: _I’ll be there in three hours._  
~Ian: _with dumplings_  
~Rose: _yay!_

He snorted to himself a little as he pocketed his mobile and used his badge to walk through the employee entrance of the office. She was eating so many dumplings that he teased her she was going to turn into one. The bit about watching her sodium intake wasn’t a lie, but he’d found that he couldn’t deny her. He was willing to give her basically anything she wanted and rationalize it to himself later.

The last few appointments of the day passed in a blur, and he was trying to decide which restaurant to call the food in at when his pager went off. It was the hospital, requesting he get back there STAT. 

Concerned but not terribly alarmed, he made his way to the hospital and up to the appropriate floor. Joan met him as he was stepping off. "It’s Greer. She’s hemorrhaging." 

"How bad is it?" he asked, his strides quickening.

"She’s unconscious." 

“Fuck.” He broke into an all-out run down the hall until he got to her room. Carmen’s mother was over to the side, crying, and the girl herself was passed out and about four shades whiter than she should be. Looking up on the monitor, he saw that her blood pressure and oxygen saturation were dangerously low. 

Ian started barking commands, feeling himself go into clinician mode. Once everyone was scurrying to his satisfaction and the wheels that needed to be turning were doing so, he turned to her mother, putting his hands on the crying woman’s shoulders. 

"Mrs. Greer, Carmen is hemorrhaging. We’ve been trying to get the blood stopped, but we’re not having any luck. She needs a hysterectomy."

"She’s only twenty-one!" Mrs. Greer wailed, and Ian did his absolute fucking best not to think of Rose.

"I know that. But not allowing this surgery would almost certainly kill her."

"Do it," she said. "Do what you have to do to save my baby."

Ian nodded, then barked a couple more commands and left the room, Carmen’s bed right on his heels.

~*~O~*~

Three hours later, Ian collapsed into his car. Carmen was safe; the hysterectomy had been successful in stopping the hemorrhaging and she’d had two units of blood to replenish her. Her baby was fine, snug and cuddled with his grandmother while his mother slept off the effects of the anesthesia. All in all it was a good day’s work, he supposed. But now that the crisis had passed, he was shaken. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Rose lying there, pale, unconscious, blood flowing freely from her body. 

He shook his head, denying the mental image. She was safe. She would _be_ safe. He was going to make sure of it. 

_What if you can’t?_

"No," he said out loud, leaning his head against the steering wheel. "No."

_What if carrying an alien’s baby kills her?_

"It fucking won’t," he vowed. 

_How do you know? What do you know about alien pregnancies?_

"Doesn’t matter. Nothing is going to happen to her. I won’t fucking let it." 

Growling, he cranked the car and pulled out of his designated space. He had to see Rose, had to see for himself that she was alright. Only the sight of her, healthy and alive, would slow the beating of his pounding heart and ease his worried mind. 

After he pulled into her driveway and parked his car, he took just a moment to try to compose himself. Rose was in there - alive and healthy - and he would only scare her if he ran inside and started telling her about what had happened. She was scared enough, even though she wouldn’t admit it, and he didn’t want to add to that. He needed to be calm. 

Leaning his head back against the seat rest, he did his best to talk himself down. He took three deep breaths, counting to ten in each one, then closed his eyes. 

At once, he saw Rose lying on a hospital bed, drained of color and unconscious, blood-soaked pads strewn everywhere. 

Jerking to attention and shaking his head vigorously to dispel the mental image, he jumped out of the car, went to her door and knocked. It felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders when she opened the door, smiling.

"You’re late, mister," she teased. 

Ian didn’t give himself time to question the wisdom of his actions, he just pulled her into his arms and held her close in a tight embrace. Rose didn’t protest, she just put her arms around him as well, rubbing his back softly. "Ian? Are you alright?"

"I’m fine," he murmured into her sweet-smelling hair. "I’m just fine."

"You don’t seem fine," she said, worried, pulling back and looking at him shrewdly. "Something’s upset you."

"It’s nothing for you to worry about, I promise. I’m here. I’m okay." He felt instant unease the minute she stepped out of his arms, but he resisted the urge to pull her back where she fucking belonged. 

"Alright," she said doubtfully, then changed the subject. "Did you bring dinner?"

"Fuck. I forgot all about it."

"No worries. You came straight from work, I see." 

He looked at her for a minute, puzzled, then looked down at himself. In his haste to get to her, he’d forgotten to change out of his scrubs. He plucked at the light blue fabric a little, bemused, wondering how to explain. 

"I...was in a rush."

"Looks like it," she teased, her tongue coming out to the corner of her smile. His eyes followed it - he didn’t think he could have looked anywhere else if he tried.

"Come on," she said, taking his arm, and he instantly felt at ease again. "I have some crisps, and probably the makings for some sandwiches. Will that be alright?"

"You don’t have to feed me, Rose. I’ll run back out and pick up the dumplings you wanted."

She waved him off, turning to go into the kitchen. "Nah. You sit down and get comfortable. I’ll make some --"

Her words were cut off when he grabbed her by the arm, spinning her around and into his arms again. Just as before, she didn’t protest, putting her arms around his waist and sinking into him a little. He lowered his mouth to her hair, not kissing, never kissing, but taking in her scent and telling himself over and over that she was okay, she was safe, the baby was okay, everything was fine.

"Ian?" she said softly, against his chest. 

"Yeah?"

"Tell me what happened." He shook his head, closing his eyes against the question and the images it drug up, but she persisted. "Ian, tell me. Please."

He inhaled raggedly, his words starting slowly, "There was a patient today. The baby was born, everything was fine, then… she hemorrhaged."

Rose hugged him a little tighter and he swallowed hard, fighting his own anxiety, pushing away the thought of Rose in that hospital bed. 

"Some bleeding is normal, but hers wouldn’t stop. I thought it would, but it didn’t. She… she lost so much that she lost consciousness. I had no choice but to do an emergency hysterectomy on her. I --" He took a deep breath and paused before he spilled more than he wanted to. 

She leaned back a bit, her soft, warm brown eyes looking into his. "You what, Ian?"

He studied her face, taking in all of the little dips and curves that made her so physically beautiful, even as she demonstrated the compassion that made her mentally and emotionally beautiful - the most beautiful woman he’d ever known. 

Bracing himself, he blurted, "She looked like you. She was blonde and about your age and she just… reminded me of you, Rose, and I was terrified."

Rose pulled one arm free only to raise her hand and touch his cheek. "I’m fine, Ian. I’m perfectly safe. I’ve got you looking out for me, and I really like Dr. Ross. You wouldn’t have recommended her if you didn’t think she was capable. I know that between the two of you, I’m going to be fine. Besides," she smiled gently, "I felt the baby move today. I’m sure that’s what it was."

He felt like slapping himself on the head. "That’s right, you mentioned. Little flutters?" 

She nodded, a bright smile all over her face. "I’m hoping he’ll do it again."

"She," Ian corrected automatically, and Rose giggled. He smiled a little at the sound, then the dread he’d been fighting all day washed back over him. "I can’t be your doctor, Rose. You have to understand that."

"I know. We’re too close for that."

"If something were to happen --"

She stopped him. "Nothing is going to happen except I am going to have a baby. A boy."

He smiled a little. "It’s a girl and you fucking know it."

Her tongue came out between her teeth and he felt his burden ease. She enjoyed teasing him and he enjoyed letting her. Everything about Rose was so easy, so _effortless_ , just being in her presence made him feel lighter. 

“I don’t suppose you have a change of clothes with you?”

“Yeah, in the car.”

“Go get it.” She glanced at the clock. “We can start the show when you’re ready.”

He didn’t want to let her out of his sight, but he couldn’t in good conscience stay in his scrubs all evening and spread hospital germs all around Rose’s home. What he’d already done was bad enough. So he hurried back to the car then went straight into the loo to change into his denims and long sleeved t-shirt. Rose was waiting for him when he stepped out.

"C’mon," she said, taking his hand and pulling him towards the sofa. He sat in his usual spot and Rose plopped down next to him, pulling the remote and her mobile off the coffee table before she settled in. She laid the remote on the couch between them and started tapping on her mobile. 

"What kind of pizza do you want?"

"Pizza?"

"Yeah. I find myself craving pizza for some reason." 

Her eyes twinkled at him, making him fall just that much more in love with her. 

"You’re the one with the craving. What do you want?"

She seemed to consider him. "Pepperoni….and...mushrooms?"

Ian hated fucking mushrooms, but there was no way in hell he’d tell _her_ that. He could just pick the little fuckers off. 

"Sounds great."

Rose placed the order, then leaned forward to lay the mobile on the table. He didn’t miss the little grunt of exertion brought on by her belly being larger than she was used to. Task accomplished, she sat back against the comfy couch, tucking one leg under herself. There were several inches between them but it felt like a couple hundred miles. Everything in Ian longed to reach for her. The indecision coupled with his still-heightened anxiety over the day he’d had must have been somewhat obvious, because Rose kept casting glances at him. Finally, she spoke. 

"You’re still uptight, aren’t you?" Ian licked his lips absently and looked away from her, trying to figure out just what he should say. "You’re still spooked about today?"

"Yeah," he admitted finally, turning to look at her. "Yeah, I’m still fucking spooked."

Rose didn’t say anything, just scooted over and laid her head on his shoulder, pulling her pink blanket down onto them and pressing the button to start the episode. The opening music for The Yard began to play. It was exactly what he needed. Her proximity comforted him, the weight of her head and the tickle of her hair reminded him that she was okay; she was here, very much alive, and safe. He’d move heaven and earth to keep her that way.

Halfway through the first episode, the doorbell made Rose jump. "That’ll be the pizza," Ian said, then started to stand. Daringly, he dropped a kiss to the top of her hair before he got to his feet and went to the door. 

When he came back, Rose had gotten paper plates and a couple bottles of soda from the kitchen and put them on the coffee table. "It’s a bit of a picnic," she smiled, and he couldn’t help it, he smiled back, feeling his shoulders relax a little. The smile was still on his face when he set to work making his pizza fucking suitable for consumption.

Rose eyed him. “What are you doing?”

“Picking the mushrooms off.”

She gave him a look. “Why on earth did you let me get mushrooms if you don’t like them?”

Ian shrugged. “You were the one with the craving. And I don’t mind picking the little fuckers off.”

“Ian!”

“What?”

“Next time, will you tell me?”

His heart and his hopes soared when he thought about ‘next time’.

“Yeah. I will.”

Once they had eaten, they went back to sitting on the couch, Rose curled up next to him with her head on his shoulder. He felt like he was going to explode from trying to keep his hands in respectable places, then finally threw caution to the wind and put his arm around her. Rose didn’t comment, she just burrowed into his side a little more, and Ian thanked his lucky stars.

The Yard went off, but neither made a move to turn the telly off. They watched another episode, still snuggled together on the couch, then another. Ian wasn’t sure how long it had been since something so wonderful had happened to him. 

The good feeling continued until he looked at the clock and realized it was well past the time he usually left on Thursdays. This fact was underlined by a yawn from Rose. 

"You tired?" he asked.

"A bit," she said on the tail end of the yawn. "Making a baby wears you out, you should know that." She smiled at him with her drowsy eyes and he melted. "Are you tired?"

"I’m...I’m not ready to go home."

She looked over at the clock. "It’s kinda late...don’t you have work tomorrow?"

"I do, but...Rose, every time I close my eyes, I see…" He scrubbed his face with his hands, trying to work up the nerve to ask for what he needed. Finally, he looked at her as steadily as he could. "I’ve had a fucking awful day. I don’t want to be alone. Can I stay?"

"Of course you can," she said, and her tone indicated that he really should have known better.

Relief flooded through him at her words. "I'll sleep on the fucking sofa; I'm not trying to --"

"I'm not going to make you sleep on the sofa, Ian."

He was hopeful, but trying not to be. "Is there a bed in the second bedroom?"

"No, I didn’t see the point since I’m going to turn it into the nursery, but my bed is big. You can share with me."

Gratitude and hope rushed through him. But he had to be a perfect gentleman tonight. He couldn’t touch her, no matter what.

~*~O~*~

"I’m going to assume you didn’t bring anything to sleep in."

His expression pinched but he shrugged it off. "I’ll be fine."

"No, you won’t. You’ll be miserable." She pushed on his shoulders, nudging him in the direction of her bedroom. "Go shower. Just… take your time, wash today off of you. I’ll get you something to wear."

He opened his mouth to argue, but she placed her hand on her hip and silently dared him to try. 

"Alright."

She waited until she heard the water start and then hurried up to the mansion. Her mother met her at the door and let her in.

"What’s wrong, sweetheart?"

"Nothing. I’ve come to ask a favor. Can I borrow a pair of Pete’s pyjamas?"

"Why would you need --" Then she looked past Rose and her expression changed. _Ian’s car_. It had to be. "Spending the night, is he?"

"It’s not like that."

"I’m not judging you, sweetheart."

"Mum, if we were sleeping together he wouldn't very well need pyjamas, now would he? My _friend_ had a rough day and needs a place to crash. He can't exactly sleep in his denims."

She hummed, clearly not convinced, but went upstairs, returning a few minutes later with a pair of pale blue pyjamas.

"Thanks, Mum."

Rose walked back to the cottage and into her bedroom just in time to hear the water turn off. She rapped on the en suite door.

"One second."

The door opened enough for her to catch a glimpse of bare shoulder all the way down to the towel around his slim waist. Water droplets clung to bare skin, sparkling in the light of her bathroom, and she took a moment to appreciate the way one of the droplets rolled smoothly downwards until it was absorbed by the terrycloth towel. She couldn’t see much, but what she _did_ see was gorgeous. She wondered if she --

 _No._ Ian was her _friend_. Nothing more. What was she even thinking? She loved the Doctor. Not Ian. Right? Hormones. It had to be.

She stuck the pyjamas in the crack and he took them from her.

"These are men’s -- please tell me they aren’t --"

"They’re Pete’s," she confirmed.

"Fuck," he said under his breath. Then, louder, "Thanks. I’ll be out in a second."

The door closed again and Rose quickly gathered her own pyjamas.

"I’m a little broader in the shoulders than Pete, apparently," he said a moment later as he stepped out of the en suite. He was wearing the pyjama bottoms and a plain white t-shirt, holding the pyjama shirt balled up in his hand. His curls were a riot it didn’t look like he’d even tried to tame, and the t-shirt still clung wetly to him in places.

"Better than your denims. I’ll be right back."

She popped into the en suite and dressed quickly then walked back into the bedroom to see Ian sitting stiffly on the far side of the bed. He’d pulled back the blankets but he wasn’t under them.

"I assumed - I can move if you prefer this side."

"No. You got it right."

He was pulling the blankets over his long legs when Rose turned off the light, but he waited for her to get onto the bed before he laid down.

"Good night, Ian."

"Good night, Rose."


	20. Chapter 20

29 December 2011

Rose’s eyes opened slowly and for just a second her breath caught. On the other pillow, facing her, was Ian, his face slack with sleep. Her hand twitched for want of touching him and she felt Ian’s hand close around it.

Her throat tightened. It had been months since she’d last held someone’s hand, yet she hadn’t even noticed the weight of his on her. It had been even longer since she’d woken up with someone else in her bed. The Doctor had been unable to stay still for long periods of time and, since he didn’t need to sleep more than a few hours a week, in the couple of weeks they'd shared a bed, she’d been more likely to find him under the TARDIS’ console or in the library when she woke up than beside her. She’d forgotten how much she missed it.

Ian stirred an instant before the alarm went off, his face screwing up almost like he sensed the impending interruption of his dreams. His hand gripped hers tighter then released when the alarm started and his eyes fluttered open. He turned over, picked up his mobile and shut it off as the alarm’s volume began to intensify, and Rose pulled her lonely hand closer to her body. 

“Good morning,” he said when he turned to face her again, his voice barely a whisper. 

“Morning. Did you sleep okay? No bad dreams?”

His expression shuttered for just a moment but quickly cleared. He shook his head slightly, his stubble rasping against the pillow. “None. Thank you.”

Rose smiled. “Great.”

He closed his eyes and ran a hand through his already-wild hair. “I should get moving. I’ve still got to go home and change before I go to the office.”

When he’d disappeared into the en suite, she crawled out of bed and slipped on her dressing gown. She knocked on the en suite door and giggled softly when Ian’s uncertain voice reached her ears. “Yes?”

“Coffee or tea?”

“You don’t have to --”

Rose rolled her eyes at him even though he couldn’t see her. “Would you like some coffee or tea, Ian?”

“Tea,” he said, but it sounded more inquisitive than anything else.

“Sure. I’ll be in the kitchen when you’re done.”

She felt the air in the room shift a few minutes later when he joined her in the kitchen and turned away from her contemplation of Pete’s rear garden to greet him. He’d changed back into the jeans and long sleeve t-shirt from the night before and already had his shoes on. Even though she knew he had somewhere important to be, she was a little disappointed that their time together was ending.

He sniffed deeply. “Am I smelling coffee?”

Rose gestured with her own mug. “My friend Jack, the one I mentioned a few weeks ago, loved the stuff. He got me hooked on it. I made you tea, like you asked, but I didn’t know how you take it…”

“I usually take it plain. It doesn’t need any fucking window dressing for me. But I’ll drink it most any way.”

“Good. That will be easy to remember.”

Ian picked up the mug on the counter and sipped at it. Rose turned her attention back to the window. There was one thing she wanted to address with him, but for the moment she was simply enjoying the comfort of being quiet together. When she finished her coffee and went to refill her mug he stopped her.

“How many have you already had?”

“Just the one.”

“You should probably stop there. Right now it’s recommended that women having _low-risk_ pregnancies drink no more than one cup of coffee a day. Talk to Ross about it the next time you go in, but consider limiting yourself to only the occasional cup.”

Rose looked from him to the coffee pot. At the moment it didn’t seem like the end of the world, but she knew that there would be other mornings when it would. With a deep breath she rinsed her mug and put it in the sink then looked up at him and smiled as brightly as she could. “Okay.”

“And I should go.” He put his mug in the sink beside hers, but Rose stopped him with a hand on his arm before he could step away.

“Before you go… I don’t want you to be afraid to talk to me when something like what happened yesterday happens.”

Ian shook his head vehemently. “No. No fucking way. You've got enough concerns. I don't want to add to them. The last thing you need is me giving you constant fucking reminders of every little thing that can go wrong.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine the things you’ve seen, Ian. It must be hell for you sometimes. _I’m_ fine, but yesterday _you weren’t_. And if I can help, I want you to let me.”

He was frowning down at her, his brow deeply furrowed and lines appearing around his mouth that she’d never seen before. “Rose --”

“Please, Ian. You have done so much for me. Let me do this for you.”

Ian hesitated for a second then pulled her into a hug, holding her close and resting his chin on the top of her head. Rose wrapped her arms around him and squeezed. “Thank you. And thank you again for letting me stay.”

“You’re welcome. I’m glad I could help. You’re coming over for The Yard tonight, right?”

“Yes, I’ll be here. And I’ll remember the dumplings this time,” he promised as he let her go and walked over to put on his coat. 

“That sounds good. You don’t have to worry about calling, just come over right after work.”

He threw a stern glance at her when she followed him to the door, and she stuck her tongue out at him. 

“You’re going to freeze,” he grumbled as he hugged her again. “Get back inside.”

“As soon as I see you off safely.”

She shivered a bit when Ian pulled back and released her, earning her another glare. 

“I’ll see you tonight,” she called as he walked to his car.

~*~O~*~

Rose walked back inside her little cottage after Ian left. Snow was in the forecast for the next few days and already there was a bite to the air. She probably shouldn’t have walked Ian outside in just her dressing gown, but she’d felt the need to see him off properly. Next time she’d stay inside or wear a coat.

She didn’t question her own use of the words ‘next time’.

Pete’s pyjamas were lying on her bed, folded neatly, and she decided to go ahead and take them back to her mother. If she was lucky, she could talk her mum into making breakfast. Changing clothes quickly and grabbing them up, she put on her wool peacoat and started towards the back door of the mansion. She was almost there when she saw Mickey standing in the door waiting for her, his expression thunderous.

"I’m surprised to see you,” she greeted him with a smile. “Don’t you have work this morning?"

"Yeah. I needed to speak with your father before, though."

"He’s not my father, and what are you doing out here if you need to see Pete?"

He scowled. "I saw you."

"Saw me what?"

"What the hell are you thinking, Rose?"

She shook her head, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Sleeping with that arsehole, Docherty."

Her back stiffened. "I'm not sleeping with him!"

He looked pointedly at the bundle in her hand.

"I’m _not_ ," she insisted.

"No? Not even after dating him for the last three months?"

"I haven’t been dating him!"

"Really? So you just see each other several times a week and get together every Thursday night as friends? God, Rose. You didn’t even do that when me and you were dating!"

"Oh, please," she scoffed. "The only places you ever took me were the chippie or the pub, and that was so you could hang out with your mates, drinking cheap ale while I sat in a booth with the other neglected girlfriends."

"I was good to you, Rose! We were nice together."

Rose ground her teeth. It wouldn’t do to lose her temper; it wouldn’t accomplish anything, and may destroy a friendship she’d had her entire life. She counted to three under her breath before she spoke. "Yes, Mickey, we were nice together. But you and I all but ended when I ran away with the Doctor. And then, if there was any doubt left, you went and put an entire universe between us."

"I didn’t --"

She cut him off. "It’s none of your business what I do and who I do it with. I don’t owe you a damn thing. But just so there’s no more misunderstanding, Ian and I are _friends_. I met him very soon after I landed here, and he’s been a good friend to me. We both enjoy watching The Yard, so we get together on Thursdays to do that. I see him during the rest of the week because he’s Pete’s best friend and he’s also one of the doctors at the office I go to. I’m sure you understand why I have to be seen more often than most patients."

"But why is he spending the night? And don’t you try to deny it. I saw that smarmy prick leaving - _after_ you hugged him goodbye in your dressing gown!"

Rose felt her patience wearing thin. "He doesn’t usually spend the night. Yesterday was a really bad day for him and he asked if he could stay."

"And you let him?"

"What the hell was I supposed to do, Micks? He’s my _friend_." 

The words, ‘I’d do the same for you’ sprang to her lips, but she bit them back. The truth was, she’d think twice about doing the same for Mickey, afraid that he’d take it to mean more than it did.

"I don't get it, Rose. With the Doctor I understood. I didn’t like it, but I understood. The Doctor was...well...he was _the Doctor_. But this guy? There's nothing special about him. He’s nothing but a prick."

Her mind started rattling off all of Ian’s positive qualities, but that wasn’t terribly helpful just then. Nearing the end of her patience, she fairly growled, "I'm not fucking dating him, Mickey."

Mickey scoffed. "Now you even _sound_ like him. So yeah, alright. You say you're not dating him. Does _he_ know you're not?"

"I --"

"Because he's mad about you, Rose."

"He’s not --"

"Babe, I’m a bloke. I know how other blokes think and how they act. That shithead is acting like a man in love."

"Stop calling him names. He’s being a good friend."

"Maybe. But he wants to be more than that."

_Did he?_ Rose wondered. She knew he _had_ been interested in her - the kiss by the lake in Hyde Park had proven that. But it had been months - was he still? Unlike that day, the idea of Ian being interested in her wasn’t something she viewed negatively. Her eyes widened when the thought struck her - did she _want_ him to fancy her? 

Hauling her wayward mind back to the conversation at hand and without any defense, she deflected. “I’m freezing out here. You were going to go in and see Pete?"

"Why won’t you call him your dad?"

"Because he’s not. Did you need to speak with him? I don’t know how long you can stay, but if you can stick around a while, I’m going to try to talk Mum into making french toast."

She had suspected that french toast would pique his interest, and she was right. "Yeah, alright," Mickey agreed, and the two of them went inside, out of the cold.

~*~O~*~

Rose finished the last bite of her mother’s french toast, closing her eyes and moaning a little bit. In all her travels and adventuring, she’d never encountered anyone who could cook as well as her mum. And now that she had a full kitchen and any ingredients she wanted at her disposal, she was concocting amazing things. Today’s french toast had been topped with whipped cream and sliced strawberries - a luxury that had been rare when they’d lived on the estates.

"That was delicious, mum," Rose praised. "Thank you. I needed that."

"You’re welcome, sweetheart." 

“The best, Jackie,” Mickey agreed around a mouthful, earning him a stern glance.

Jackie stood to take their plates to the sink and looked into their mugs. “Did you want more coffee?”

“Nah,” Mickey said. “I need to be leaving soon.”

“And I shouldn’t,” Rose said, thinking about what Ian had told her earlier. “So, Micks, you coming to the New Year’s party?"

"Do you want me to?"

"You’re my _friend_. I’ve known you my whole life. Of course I want you to come celebrate the New Year."

"Will the arsehole be there?"

Rose narrowed her eyes at him. "If by ‘arsehole’ you mean ‘Ian’, yes. He’ll be there."

"I’ll think about it," he said grudgingly.

She smiled, smug. "I know that tone, Mickey Smith. You’ll be there."

He didn’t disagree with her. "I hate wearing a tux."

Jackie came back to the table with a steaming mug of tea for herself and sat down. "Oh, don’t bother with a tux. It’s not black tie.”

“Yeah, just wear what you would wear if you were going on a date with someone you really wanted to impress."

“Alright. But I don’t want to spend any more time than I have to with that arsehole."

Rose grinned. "I promise.” 

Mickey scooted back from the table. “I should go if I’m going to get to work.”

He kissed Jackie’s cheek and thanked her again for breakfast, and Rose presented her cheek as well when he approached her.

Jackie patted her hand after he was gone. "I’m so glad you can keep what you eat down now, love."

"I’m keeping too much of it down," Rose grumbled. "I’m gaining weight."

"You’re supposed to gain weight, you daft thing. You’re pregnant."

"I know. I just feel so fat."

"You’re not fat."

"I’ve gained almost six pounds!"

"And you’ll gain more," Jackie said matter-of-factly. "Still doesn’t mean you’re fat. Your body is doing exactly what it’s supposed to."

Rose sighed and leaned back in her seat, stroking the slight roundness in her belly with the tips of her fingers. She’d outgrown regular jeans and was now wearing maternity jeans, but her belly was still small - although it seemed to be growing every day. The little fluttering she’d felt the day before came again and she smiled. Her baby was in there, wiggling and squirming. She couldn’t wait to meet him. 

Ian’s voice spoke in her mind and she almost giggled. ‘ _It’s a girl and you fucking know it_ ’.

Her mother snapped her fingers, recapturing Rose’s attention. "Hello, Earth to Rose…"

"Sorry, was wool gathering. What were you saying?"

"How are things with Ian?"

"Hm? Oh. Fine. He had a really bad day at work yesterday and asked if he could crash at mine, is all. Why?"

"Rose," her mum huffed, "How are _things_ with Ian?"

It took a second before Rose cottoned on, but when she did, she rolled her eyes. "Really, Mum? First Mickey and now you? There’s nothing going on with Ian."

"Just like there was nothing going on with you and the Doctor?"

"Every time I said that it was the truth. And then once it wasn’t... we were actually planning to tell you that day, you know, but…" With everything that had happened with the ghosts and Canary Wharf, the announcement to her mother that she and the Doctor had taken the next step in their relationship had fallen far to the wayside. If things had gone differently… Rose felt the familiar sting of tears but forced it aside. When she opened her eyes again, her mother was giving her an odd look, and it made her nervous. "What?"

"You just talked about the Doctor."

"You started it."

"I know I did. But you talked about him and didn’t break down."

Rose realized her mother was right, and wasn’t sure how she felt about it. She only dreamed about him occasionally now, and the dreams were pleasant - not the wrenching nightmares she’d had when she first landed here. She still thought of him all the time, but the desperate longing to be with him had mellowed into something calmer. She missed him - of course she did - but it wasn’t crippling, the way it had been. She had closure; as awful as it was, seeing him on Darlig Ulv Stranden had given her some peace. She knew he loved her. There was never any doubt. She just wished he’d been able to say it.

Was it a betrayal for her to be healing? Her face apparently prompted her mother to speak.

"That’s a _good_ thing, sweetheart. You know he wouldn’t want you to be miserable. He’d want you to be happy. I don’t understand why, entirely, but Ian seems to make you happy."

"He’s my _friend_ ," Rose insisted, trying not to think too hard about what her mum was saying. Ian was her friend, yes, but he was also... something more. Something she wasn’t ready to define just yet. And if she thought too hard, she might be forced to admit to herself that Ian _did_ make her happy. She was comfortable with him. He made her feel special, clever. He made her feel safe and protected. She didn’t need to be on her guard with him. Waking up beside him, her hand wrapped in his, had just felt natural. Snuggling up to him on the couch had become something she looked forward to. Honestly, it seemed like _everything_ she did with Ian just felt… _right_. 

"He’s just a friend," she insisted, wondering who was fooling who inside her head.

She certainly didn’t seem to be fooling her mother. "Right," said Jackie, sarcastically. "Just a friend."


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The authors would like to take a moment (again) to thank Rose_Nebula for all her help with this fic, and for the manips she's done! You've helped to make this story the best it can be, and we can't thank you enough. <3

31 December 2011

Ian tried not to think about it too much when he pulled out his overnight bag and filled it with toiletries and a change of clothes. As an afterthought, he carefully folded an oxford and a pair of trousers and put them in, too. Then he threw a pair of pyjama bottoms on top, because there was no way he was going to be able to look Pete in the eyes if he ever found out about the ones they’d borrowed.

The whole bag was a contingency plan anyway - a pipe dream; it was highly unlikely he’d ever spend another night with her.

Checking his appearance one more time before he left, he picked up the mobile and texted Rose.

~Ian: _I’m leaving my house now, on my way to you. Meet you in the foyer?_

He slipped his mobile into his pocket and gave one last look at the packed overnight bag. It was a ridiculous idea, and he dismissed it before he walked into the kitchen and grabbed Rose’s gifts then headed out the door and locked it. His message alert tone played on the way to the car and he slid into the driver’s seat, pulling out his mobile to check it.

~Rose: _I’m almost ready. Trying to make a purse out of a fat sow’s ear, lol_  
~Rose: _are you spending the night tonight?_

His heart pounded. Was that an invitation? Did she _want_ him to spend the night? And if she did, did she intend for him to stay in the mansion, or sleep with her?

Deciding that clarification was needed, he texted her back.

~Ian: _There’s no fucking way you could be considered a sow’s ear, fat or otherwise. Did you want me to stay with you tonight?_

The phrasing was deliberate. He hoped it would bring about a concrete answer. It wouldn't do to assume too much. He glanced over at the house and wondered if he should get his bag or --

His mobile buzzed in his hand.

~Rose: _you’re more than welcome to stay with me anytime. may want pyjamas, though ;)_

In an exuberant gesture, Ian kissed the screen of his mobile then texted her back. 

~Ian: _I’ll take you up on your hospitality, then. Grabbing a bag, be there soon_  
~Rose: _looking forward to it :) Want to meet me at mine to drop off your bag?_  
~Ian: _sounds good. On my way._

Ian pumped his fist in the air and went back inside to get the bag, feeling better than he’d felt in weeks. He was going to spend all evening with her, then spend the _night_ with her, and if he had any kind of luck at all, he’d be able to spend at least part of the day with her tomorrow. He wasn’t sure anything could ruin his mood right then. 

Twenty minutes later he was pulling into the Tylers’ driveway, veering off to the right towards Rose’s little cottage instead of taking advantage of the valet parking Pete had hired for the evening. He hopped out of the car, feeling downright fucking effervescent, and went to knock on the door of her cottage. She answered just a moment later and left him stunned while his gaze raked her from head to toe. 

Her hair was artfully styled and arranged on the top of her head in a mass of curls, with a couple falling around her face to frame it. Her makeup was flawless, from her long lashes to her dark red lipstick. She’d selected a dark red velvet empire waist dress, knee length, that hid her growing belly effectively and was simply gorgeous. 

"Well it’s about time," she teased, breaking into his thoughts. "I was starting to think I’d have to go stag."

 _Over his dead body_.

He snorted, getting his bearings again. "No, you don’t have to go fucking stag. I’m here to save you from such a fate."

"My hero," she giggled. Then she looked down at his bag. "Here, I’ll take that from you."

"Not on your life," he said and he held it behind himself, out of range of the hand that was reaching for it. "I’ll carry it."

She looked exasperated. "I’m not fragile, I’m just pregnant."

"I’m quite aware of that, but I wouldn’t let you carry my bag for me even if you weren’t pregnant." Rose made to protest, and Ian shushed her. "It would be fucking ungentlemanly if I didn’t carry my own bag."

"Gentlemen. I’d forgotten what those looked like. Come on in, then. You can drop it on the bed, then we’ll go."

Ian did as requested, hustling back out to meet her. "Ready?" 

"Ready," she agreed with a smile, then the two set out towards the mansion. They were halfway across the garden path when Rose slipped on an icy stone. He managed to catch her before she fell and pulled her close to him.

"Rose, sweetheart, are you okay?" he asked, sounding panicked in his own ears.

She nodded, looking up at him, wide-eyed. "Yeah, I’m fine."

"Are you sure?"

"I am. Really, I’m fine."

He set her back on her feet, holding onto her until she was more stable. "Here," he said, running his fingers down her arm until he got to her hand where he laced their fingers together. "Let me help."

"You don’t need to do that. I’m fine."

"Your body is changing, Rose --"

"No shit."

Ian gave her a look. "Cheeky. I mean your center of gravity is shifting. It’s normal to not be as steady on your feet. And it’s nothing to be ashamed of if you need help. Especially in these conditions."

She huffed softly but didn’t argue with him and - more importantly - didn’t remove her hand from his when they started walking again. They’d only gone a few steps when a single word reached his ears and for a moment his heart stopped.

"‘Sweetheart’?"

Ian was mortified. How could he have slipped like that? He stammered, "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean --"

"It’s alright," she said, smiling, her tongue now in the corner of her mouth. "I don’t mind."

"You - you don’t?" he asked, incredulous.

Rose shook her head. "Nope. Doesn’t bother me one bit. Kind of like it, actually."

His heart swelled and soared. "Well, then, I guess you should be prepared to hear it fairly often."

She just giggled and he squeezed the hand he held in his. Dizzy with a second success so soon on the heels of the first, they walked towards the mansion, hand-in-hand.

~*~O~*~

Rose wasn’t sure she’d ever get accustomed to the society scene that she was a part of now. The men were generally boring and the women seemed vapid, preferring to talk about shopping or the holidays they’d taken or the trials of dealing with servants. She hated it, but did her best to be what she was supposed to be.

Ian was a godsend. He stayed either right beside her or within a few steps. He was wearing a suit again, this one with a waistcoat and in a grey so dark that it was almost black, and she very much liked how he looked in it. He looked so at ease, laughing with people he knew, but she caught him looking at her often. It was a far cry from visiting places with the Doctor who, oftentimes, would get so wrapped up in whatever mystery had drawn them in that he’d seem to forget she was even there. Ian was watching over her without being smothering, and she felt nothing but grateful. 

There were a couple of pointed looks at her abdomen, but nobody said anything. Her mother had encouraged her to go ahead and let the cat out of the bag if someone mentioned it, but Rose wasn’t quite ready to let people in on it yet. The time was coming soon, but...not yet.

They’d been at the party almost an hour when she finally caught sight of a familiar face and quickly crossed the room. 

“You, sir, are late,” she teased when she arrived at Mickey’s side. She tossed a wave at the bloke standing next to him. “Hi, Jake.”

“Hi, Rose,” Jake said with a bright smile.

“Hey, babe.” Mickey turned and greeted her with a hug, but when he pulled back his eyes were scanning the room behind her. .

“Looking for someone?”

By the way his eyes narrowed, she knew what his answer would be even before his gaze returned to her and he said, “Kind of surprised he’s not glued to your side, honestly.”

Rose sighed. “I’d love to know what happened between the two of you. He’s perfectly nice to me.”

Mickey muttered something under his breath that might have been ‘don’t have the right equipment’, but Rose couldn’t be sure because Jake snorted. Before she had a chance to process any of it, she felt a familiar gentle touch on her lower back that distracted her and she couldn’t help the smile she wore when she turned towards him.

“I thought you might be thirsty,” Ian said and offered her a flute of bubbling liquid.

“What the hell are you thinking, Docherty? You know she can’t have that,” Mickey hissed as he grabbed for the glass. Rose held onto it and barely managed to keep it from spilling all over her dress. 

“Watch it, Micks!”

“It’s fucking sparkling grape juice, you idiot,” Ian growled through clenched teeth. “The bartender has a fucking case of the stuff on hand just for her.”

Rose laid her free hand on Ian’s arm and he quieted. Mickey’s eyes were still hard. “That way no one has to know.”

“Yeah. Alright.” He tugged down sharply on the front of his blazer and looked between them. “I’m going to go find your father. I’ll see you later. C’mon, Jake.”

Before she could say anything, he leaned over and pecked her cheek. Then he glared at Ian once more and walked off.

Jake gave an unperturbed wave as he turned and followed Mickey. Ian muttered something under his breath at Mickey’s back, but Rose just pinched the bridge of her nose and thanked whatever deities were listening that Mickey didn’t hear him.

“Are you feeling alright, sweetheart?”

Just like the first time he’d called her that a couple hours earlier, something fluttered pleasantly in her abdomen at the endearment. 

“I’m fine.”

“If you’re sure?”

“Yeah. I’m sure.”

It wasn’t long before they were both dragged in different directions. Once again, Ian never strayed far. Rose did her best to concentrate on the boring conversations she was having, but her eyes kept drifting over to Ian. Every time she caught his eye, she gave him a small smile that he returned, and she felt herself flush a bit. After one such exchange, the woman she was talking to, Kathleen, a member of the Vitex Board of Directors, gave Rose a knowing look. 

"Have a thing for older men, do you?"

Rose was taken off-guard. "I’m not --"

"Oh, please. I’m old enough to be your mother, you can’t fool me. He’s looking at you like a man arse over teakettle in love. And you’re looking back at him the same way."

"He’s just my friend," Rose insisted, feeling her face heat even more. 

Kathleen gave her a shrewd look, then went on talking about something that didn’t interest Rose in the slightest. She was rescued a few minutes later by her mother, but it wasn’t long before Jackie abandoned her with a young woman, saying they’d probably have loads to talk about. As it happened, they had _nothing_ in common, and Rose thanked the heavens when Ian interrupted them to give her another glass of sparkling grape juice. 

They drifted in different directions again, always keeping eyes on each other, even when Jake asked Rose to dance. She accepted without a second thought - she didn’t know him terribly well, but he’d always been very nice to her. They chatted about this and that, nothing of any consequence, but even so, Rose kept her eyes on Ian. 

She had only been dancing with Jake for a minute when the whole room started counting down the New Year. She’d lost track of time and the countdown took her by surprise but she counted down to one, then shouted "Happy New Year" with the rest of the party goers.

All around her people were cheering, but for the most part the noise level had dimmed slightly from a few seconds earlier when, as one, the couples in the crowd paired off to ring in the New Year with a kiss. Vaguely, she noticed that Jake had left her side hurriedly. Rose flushed, and a wave of sadness threatened to crash over her when she realized she had no one to kiss _her_. She spotted Mickey a few feet away, looking as if he was headed her way. Before her smile had a chance to fade or she could think of a way out of kissing him, she felt an arm go around her waist and turned to see Ian. She laughed when he pulled her closer and felt her belly flutter when he smirked, the same way it always did when he looked at her that way. 

His eyes roamed her face for just a moment, then he dipped his head. Rose closed her eyes and tilted her face up to meet his kiss, and his lips pressed against hers. At once, she felt something shoot through her body, from her lips to the very tips of her fingers and toes. She returned his kiss slowly and gently, letting her lips slide against his, marveling at just how _right_ it felt for him to be touching her, kissing her. Like he was meant to do so. 

Ian pulled away entirely too quickly for her taste, but she didn’t open her eyes right away, wanting to hang on to the feel of his lips against hers.

"I’m sorry about that," he said, his arms still around her. "I just didn’t want you to be alone at New Year’s."

"No, it was -- it was lovely. Thank you." It had been more than lovely, but she wasn’t about to admit that out loud, especially when she hadn’t processed it herself. 

He gave her a look that she couldn’t quite decipher, but he loosened his hold on her, keeping one hand around her waist -- ostensibly to steady her. Once she was standing independently, though, he didn’t let go, just kept his arm around her almost lazily while they chatted with other party goers. More than one person looked down at his hand resting above her hip with raised eyebrows, but no one commented and Ian didn’t let go. 

At one point she caught sight of her mother and Pete across the room. Jackie was grinning at the sight of Ian with his arm around her. Pete looked much more cross.

Rose didn’t care, but she didn’t bother to analyze _why_ she didn’t care. For the rest of the night, Ian stayed within arm’s length of her, almost always touching her in some way. She tried, but she couldn’t remember a party she’d enjoyed more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this amazing manip by Rose_Nebula was based on this chapter! :) 


	22. Chapter 22

1 January 2012

Something wasn’t right about the light in the room; it was too bright on the other side of his eyelids. _What time was it?_

Ian opened his eyes and reached for his mobile on the nightstand, unlocking it to be greeted by a picture of himself and Rose.

If it wasn’t for part of his arm visible in the bottom corner, he would have assumed he’d given his mobile to someone else to take the shot. Rose was laughing, facing him and tucked tightly against his side, his left arm around her. He wasn’t looking at the camera -- which made the shot that much more impressive -- but down at her, and the rainbows Pete and Jackie had shot at each other during their vow renewal had nothing on the look he was giving Rose.

He rolled back onto the pillow. As if he needed visual confirmation that he was fucking _gone_ for her.

"Thought I heard you moving around," Rose said softly from the doorway and he lifted his head to look at her while simultaneously pressing the button that would put his mobile to sleep. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine." He ran a hand through his hair, probably doing more damage than anything else. "Despite appearances, I’m not actually hung over. I don’t often get to sleep in, so apparently my body took advantage."

"It’s not all that late, only half seven." She stepped into the room and he sat up, scooting a bit until he was sitting comfortably with his back against the headboard.

"That's late when you’re accustomed to five a.m."

"Good point. This is for you," she said, handing him a mug. It was tea, still hot enough that he could see the steam rising from it. As he blew gently across the top, Rose climbed onto the bed, settled against his side, and rested her head on his shoulder.

He inhaled sharply and began to wonder if he was still dreaming.

"Too hot?"

"No. Perfect." 

She was quiet for a few moments while he sipped his tea.

He clearly remembered kissing Rose at midnight -- the only logical reaction he could think of to the situation he’d found himself in. She’d been dancing with that pretty boy, Jake, and Ian had thought he’d lose his mind. He’d been on his way over to cut in, damn the torpedoes, when the countdown for midnight had started. He’d had no idea what to do… he desperately _wanted_ to kiss her, but the way she’d reacted the last time he’d done so was a major deterrent. 

The internal debate had ended abruptly, however, when he saw fucking Mickey headed her way. The thought of that idiot kissing her was more than he could stand, so - right or wrong - he’d made his move. 

Everything about that kiss was seared on his memory, especially the fact that she’d kissed him back. When he’d pulled away and been able to look somewhere other than her eyes, he’d felt gratified and sheepish to see Jake in the corner, enthusiastically snogging a bloke. Okay, so maybe he’d overreacted just a touch, but he wasn’t about to argue with the results. Not while he had his arm around Rose Tyler’s waist, holding her close. Not one bit.

After that, things started to blur, but he remembered feeling euphoric. However, he couldn’t remember returning to Rose’s cottage after the party or anything that had happened -- anything he’d _said_ \-- before they’d fallen asleep. And he began to seriously consider asking her to refresh his memory.

"You okay?" he said instead.

"Yeah. Just feeling lazy today."

He looked out the window and noted it was snowing. "Looks like a good day to be lazy."

"Yeah. Cloudy days always make me tired, and snow doesn’t excite me the way it used to when I was a kid. It snows more here than it did… there."

"Did you sled in it or build snowmen?" he asked, blowing across his tea and taking another sip.

"No, there wasn’t anywhere to sled nearby. I only built a snowman once, and it was kind of gross in hindsight."

"Gross?"

"I grew up on the estates, remember? The snow wasn’t exactly pristine."

"Ah," he said, feeling a bit sheepish. He had indeed forgotten that. He took another sip of his tea, trying to think of something to say.

"We used bits of old cars that had fallen off to decorate him - nuts and bolts and whatnot. And none of us had a carrot. Fresh produce was expensive, especially in the winter."

Ian ached. He knew she’d grown up on the estates, but knowing that the poverty she’d endured had even prevented her from enjoying one of childhood’s simple pleasures…

“I bet you’ve visited planets where you could have built snowmen.”

“Well, yeah, if you didn’t mind your snowman being yellow…”

He recoiled a little, careful not to go so far as to make her move away from him. “ _Yellow fucking snow?_ ”

Rose giggled. “It’s not as disgusting as it seems. Everything on that planet was a warm color - but it was really, really cold. Even so, I wouldn’t play in the yellow snow. The Doctor couldn’t understand why and chalked it up to me being a stupid ape.”

“He called you a stupid ape?”

“Yeah, but towards the end, it was more affectionate than anything.”

Ian dwelled on that for a minute. He already hated the Doctor, but the idea of Rose being called a ‘stupid ape’ just intensified that hatred.

"One time," she interrupted his train of thought, her head still lying on his shoulder, "the Doctor took us to this planet called ‘Woman Wept’.”

Ian took another sip of his tea, deeply regretting bringing up the shitstain Doctor in the first fucking place and wishing he knew of a way to change the subject. "He took you to a planet full of fucking crying women?"

Rose giggled a little. "No, it was called that because there was only one continent on the planet and it was shaped like a woman hunched over, crying."

"I see," he said, even though he really didn’t.

"The whole planet had flash-frozen, like you do with vegetables. There were frozen waves a hundred feet high you could walk under, and they sparkled like diamonds. It was beautiful."

"Sounds lovely."

To his surprise, Rose nestled into his side a bit more. He wasn’t sure what he’d done to earn such a display of affection, but he wasn’t complaining. Not one bit. He shifted a little and draped his arm around her. 

"It was beautiful. But it was all ice, not snow. Hard to build a snowman out of ice."

Ian chuckled. "That it is. Would you like to build a snowman today?"

He could hear the grin in her voice. "Could be fun. I’ll bet Mum has a carrot."

"Bet she does," he agreed, then laid his head over on top of hers. He would never be the Doctor, but he could give her this. This simple pleasure, a memory to keep. And at least he'd been the first -- 

_Shit._

Ian jumped out of bed, sloshing tea onto himself and startling Rose. 

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. I forgot something."

He sat the tea hurriedly on the bedside table and dashed down the hall in his pyjama trousers. How could he have been so stupid? To get so fucking pissed that he --

There they were, on the table. The traditional gifts for Hogmanay: coal, shortbread, salt, black bun, and a small bottle of whisky. Dimly, he now remembered explaining the gifts to Rose after he brought them in. 

"You were terribly pissed last night," she said from behind him, a hint of laughter in her voice. "Claimed to have baked that shortbread yourself."

"I did," he protested. "Told you I’m a fucking great cook."

"Let’s just see about that. Shortbread for breakfast?"

"Shortbread for breakfast," he agreed with a smile. "And look, we have coal for buttons and eyes."

Her eyes twinkled at him. "You were thinking ahead."

"That’s me. I’m a planner."

Rose laughed and went into the kitchen. Ian looked down at the gifts and thanked the heavens he’d remembered to bring them in. He wasn’t superstitious, never had been, but he’d take all the luck he could get when it came to Rose. And it would _not_ have done to be the first foot and have forgotten the traditional gifts for her. Even if he was the ideal first footer - male, dark haired (well, mostly), and handsome.

He smirked at himself a little, then followed Rose into the kitchen to see if he could help in some way. 

Maybe 2012 was going to be his year. He knew it would be, if he could just get her to stay.

~*~O~*~

Rose came back into the lounge after fixing some tea to warm them, stopping in the doorway to find Ian kneeling in front of the fireplace, fiddling with the beginnings of a fire. She smiled a little, amused at him - and admiring him more than a bit. When she realized what she was doing she flushed to the roots of her hair and kept walking.

“I brought tea,” she announced, getting his attention. 

He turned around, smiling, and then narrowed his eyes at her. “Are they both teas?”

Her tongue came to the corner of her mouth. “Maybe. Maybe not,” she said, shocking herself a little when she realized she was overtly flirting. But then Ian’s brows furrowed and she giggled. “It’s tea. Promise.”

“Oh, alright. I’m fucking trusting you.” Rose giggled again and Ian’s scowl turned to amusement. “That one for me?” He nodded to the mug in Rose’s hand that wasn’t pink.

“It is,” she grinned, then stepped over to him and presented his mug before sitting down on one end of the couch, pulling her pink blanket off the back. Ian went to his usual side of the couch and had a seat. “So you’ve gotten some use out of the blanket?”

She swallowed the sip of tea she had in her mouth. “I have! Most every night while I’m watching TV or reading.”

“It’ll be handy when this little girl is born, too.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re not going to let that go, are you?”

“Nah,” he agreed, grinning. “Mostly because I’m right.”

“We’ll see…” She took another sip of tea and looked over at Ian just in time to see him shiver. “You’re cold?”

“A bit,” he allowed. “I didn’t bring any fucking spare clothes, just these and my suit - and that’s fine, these will dry out soon enough once the fire gets going.”

Rose looked over at the fire that was just barely starting to grow and without giving herself time to think, she set her tea down on the coffee table, scooting over towards him. He looked surprised, but raised his arm for her to scoot under - which she did. Once she was sidled up next to him, she started arranging the blanket over the both of them, over her shoulder and up to his chest. When she was completely snuggled in, Ian put his arm around her. 

“Cozy?” he asked, and there was a strange quality to his voice. 

“Mmhm,” she said, realizing that she’d forgotten her tea, then realizing she was perfectly content as she was.

She felt Ian’s lips press against the top of her head in what may have been a kiss, but she wasn’t sure. 

“So when did you move to London?”

“During Uni. Fergus and I came down together and said we’d go back to Glasgow together when we were done. Just more comfortable that way, you know? Having someone you know in a strange town. But medical school takes longer than his education did, and by the time I finished, I was thoroughly ensconced in London.”

“You and Fergus went to Uni together?”

Ian scoffed, stroking her bicep absently, making her shiver - but not from cold. “We did. We moved here and got a flat together, saying it was for one year. We were flatmates the entire time Fergus was at Uni.”

“That must have been fairly easy, though, being flatmates with your cousin.”

“It wasn’t exactly _difficult_ , but Fergus and I are very different people. He fell in with the jocks and ball players fairly quickly, and I took up with a band. Those two crowds don’t generally mix, but Fergus and I didn’t care. We did what we could to see each other’s events. One time --” He huffed a laugh then started again. “One time, Fergus came to see my band play. He was between girlfriends at the time --”

“Between girlfriends?”

“Fergus _always_ had a girlfriend.” Rose giggled, and Ian went on. “So he was there on his own. Probably on the pull, I never found out. Anyway, we were in this little dive bar that featured live music, and my band played there relatively frequently. I was up on the stage and had a pretty good view of everything that was going on. Fergus caught sight of some bloke manhandling his girlfriend at the same time I did. I was ready to jump down and go break it up, but I could see Fergus was already on the way, so I kept playing. Fergus had a few words with the bloke. Everything seemed to be settling down, then the bastard threw a right hook at Fergus.”

Rose turned her head so that she could see Ian, her eyes wide. “What happened?”

“I threw my guitar off and dove off the stage towards them. Broke my guitar’s neck in the process. Shame, that.”

She giggled. He’d gotten into a bar brawl and his only regret seemed to be breaking his guitar. 

“Were you hurt?”

“Nah. I had a wee black eye. Fergus had a split lip and a lump on his head from being walloped with a chair. It was the sternest I’d ever seen Uncle Dougan when he stared us down from the other side of the cell bars a few hours later, still wearing his Glasgow PD uniform.”

Rose gasped. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes. The lightest charge we were facing was disorderly conduct, which was shit. I hadn’t been drinking at all. Fergus had a few lagers in him, but he was sober enough. Battery, destruction of property, those were much worse. I thought I was done for, for sure, that I’d be booted out of medical school and sent home in disgrace. Fergus started to make excuses, but Uncle Dougan cut him off and went back to the front of the station. A while later, a sergeant came to get us and walked us up to where Uncle Dougan was waiting. We stood there, too afraid to say anything, while he signed some documents. As soon as we were on the pavement, Fergus started again, ‘It wasn’t Ian’s fault, Da. It was me.’”

“He was trying to protect you.” Rose had never met Fergus, probably never would, but she was quite grateful to him for sticking up for Ian like that.

Ian nodded. “But Uncle Dougan wouldn’t hear it. He hushed us both and kept walking. Fergus and I exchanged a glance but followed. Uncle Dougan led us for a bit and then turned around. He looked from Fergus to me and said, ‘Your mam never knows about this. Am I understood?’ I think both of us were afraid to breathe, but we agreed readily enough. Then he patted our shoulders. ‘My boys. Well come on, then. You lot deserve a lager. Been a rough night.’ He’d taken us to a pub. The charges must have gotten dropped because nothing ever appeared on our records. And I still don’t know what he told Auntie in order to get on a zeppelin for London in the wee hours without her getting suspicious, but she never mentioned it.”

“Where was Pete in all of this? I’m surprised he wasn’t sitting next to you in the cell.” 

“This was before Pete. Our drummer quit in our third year and Pete replaced him. We gave him shit for a while, called him ‘Ringo’, but he settled in well enough.”

Rose laughed a little to herself at the idea of Pete being called ‘Ringo’. 

“Did you and Fergus get into any other trouble?”

“Aye,” he nodded, and she stifled a giggle at him slipping into his native language. “One time Fergus got me drunk and started trying to talk me into getting a tattoo with him. Said if I was going to be a rock star, I needed to look the part. He’d been wanting a tattoo for a while, but the big pansy didn’t want to go alone. All he would have had to do would be to ask me to go with him, but his big dumb arse never thought of that. So he finally got me convinced and we went to a tattoo parlor. We were both bladdered, but both determined to get these tattoos. Well, the buzz started to wear off while we were waiting and I got sleepy, so I decided to get an earring instead. Then we both flew to Glasgow two days later.”

Rose grinned. “What did your aunt say to that?” 

“She didn’t have to say anything. She just gave my earring a pointed look and I knew good and well to go upstairs and take it out. To this day, she doesn’t know I almost got a tattoo.”

“Did you ever get one?”

Ian shook his head. “Nah. It wasn’t worth disappointing her. I’m glad I didn’t do it, now.”

Rose settled back into his side, almost wishing he’d have said he got a tattoo just so she could see it. 

“Sounds like you and your cousin had a wonderful time.”

“For the most part. We get on well enough when we’re not taking the piss. And it seemed that taking the piss went to all new levels those few years.”

“What did you do?” she asked, intrigued.

“Wound each other up as much as possible. It was fun to be the winder, not so fun to be the windee.” 

“Any particular way?”

“Well, it escalated, you see. It started as cellophane over the toilet and hair removal cream in the shampoo, but eventually he started busting into my room when --” 

He stopped and stiffened, his whole body going rigid. Concerned, Rose looked up at him. “Ian? You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.”

“When did he come busting into your room?” Rose asked, following a hunch.

“That fire is taking forever to grow,” Ian muttered, and she grinned a little at the deflection. 

“When you had girls over?” For some reason, she wanted him to deny that. 

Ian sighed heavily. “Yeah. He took to barging into my room anytime I had a… female guest. The lock on my door could have been made of paper for all it seemed to work.”

The thought of him with other women was bothersome, but she didn’t have time to pursue that before Ian was going on. 

“I always got him back, though. He should have known I would,” he said with a smile in his voice.

“What did you do?”

“I’d bang on his door and shout that the health department had rang with his STD results and they wanted him to ring them back right away. Other times I’d set my amp up right outside his door and play music. When I wasn’t feeling too creative, I’d just sit and bounce a rubber ball against his door then catch it. Over and over and over.”

Rose was laughing, despite her flare of jealousy. “You had to torture him? You couldn’t just barge in there?” 

“I had no desire to see his big hairy arse!” Ian protested. “I’d have been scarred for life.”

She giggled some more and heard Ian chuckle. Again, she felt his lips press against her hair. 

It occurred to her with something like a shock that she was here in Pete’s World and she was comfortable. Sitting here on the couch in her cottage with this daft man, she was content. Ian had managed to do the impossible - he’d taught her to be happy in this strange world. 

She nuzzled into his side a little deeper under the pink blanket he’d given her and pondered on that while they watched the fire spread.

~*~O~*~

Rose straightened her shoulders, telling herself for the umpteenth time that what she was about to do was the right thing. It hurt, but not as badly as it probably should, and certainly not as much as it would if she wasn’t pregnant. She’d known she was going to be a citizen of Pete’s World for months now. Cutting off her escape route was just a formality. She wouldn’t be able to use it, even if the far-fetched plan worked.

Jackie had told her that Pete was in his study, so Rose made her way there. She’d never visited Pete in his study - she generally tended to avoid him altogether - but there was a first time for everything, she supposed.

Taking one more deep breath and raising her fist, she knocked.

"Yeah?"

She pushed the door open and went inside. Pete was visibly surprised to see her, and got to his feet. "Rose!"

"You don’t need to get up. I’ll only bother you for a moment."

"You’re never a bother. What is it?"

She took a deep breath. "I want you to shut down the dimension hopper project."

"You what?"

"I want you to shut down the dimension hopper project," she repeated, this time with conviction. 

"But… why? I thought all you wanted was to go back to the prime universe?"

Rose ignored the twisting in her chest she always got when she thought too hard about her life before. "It’s been months and Dr. Taylor has made no progress at all. There’s no sense wasting money and resources on it anymore. Even if he succeeded," she ran a hand down the side of her belly, "I’m not sure what I’d be able to do about it." 

Pete eyed her warily. "Are you sure about this, Rose? The dimension hoppers are your one shot."

She nodded. "I’m sure."

He stared at her for a little longer, and Rose didn’t flinch. "Alright. If you’re sure, I’ll call a halt to it in the morning. If you change your mind before then, let me know."

"I will," she agreed. But she knew that she wouldn't. It was time to stop dreaming of her old life a universe away and start living in the life she had now. "Thanks," she said to Pete, then scurried out of his office and down the corridor a little ways before she let the tears fall, grieving, once again, for the things she’d never have again. She didn’t cry long, though. She was determined to use this new start to her best advantage - for her and her baby. With that in mind, she wiped her eyes, took a deep breath, and went to see her mother.


	23. Chapter 23

3 January 2012  
Week Nineteen 

Rose smiled when Ian pulled her coat off of the coatrack in his office after her appointment with Dr. Ross. He held it up, waiting silently for her to turn around so he could put it on.

“Are you going to button it, too?” she teased. 

“I will if you don’t,” he teased back.

She giggled, her tongue touching the side of her mouth while she willed her belly to settle down from the smirk he’d just sent her. Really, she needed to get ahold of herself. 

He ducked his head into Clara’s office and told her he was going out for lunch. Rose couldn’t help but laugh when Clara called out, “Bye, Rose!”, making Ian roll his eyes. 

As soon as they were on the pavement, he took her hand. She didn’t resist at all; in fact, she turned her hand so that the two of them could thread their fingers together. Unable to stop herself, she smiled up at him and when he saw her, he winked. She let out a little giggle and bumped him with her shoulder.

“So where are we -?”

“Miss Tyler!”

Rose jerked her head up, looking around for the person who had called her name, only to find that there were _several_ people headed towards her, all with cameras, some with microphones. 

“Miss Tyler!”   
“Miss Tyler!”  
“Rose! Can we have a word?”

Before she could react, Ian had pulled her close and a little behind him, shielding her. “Miss Tyler has nothing to say to the press at this time. Thank you.” That said, he turned to walk away, holding Rose’s hand close to his body, indicating she should stay with him. She hustled to keep up. 

The paparazzi were undeterred and started shouting questions. 

_“Rose, are you pregnant?”_   
_“Who is the baby’s father?”_   
_“Why are you spending so much time with Dr. Docherty?”_   
_“Rose, are you only in it for the money?”_   
_“Is Dr. Docherty the baby’s father?”_   
_“Is Pete Tyler this baby’s father?”_

“What?” she gasped, outraged.

“Don’t say anything,” Ian urged her through clenched teeth, still walking. 

The photographers drew closer, cutting off the path they were trying to take.

“Get the fuck out of my way or I’ll turn that goddamn camera into fucking confetti,” Ian snarled. 

They drew closer, and Ian pressed Rose closer to the wall, his arm around her, shielding her as best he could.

_“Rose, don’t you think the baby’s father deserves to know?”_   
_“What’s it like being the Vitex Heiress?”_   
_“Are you making it all up, Rose?”_

“Back the fuck off!” Ian bellowed. “Get away from her!”

_“Dr. Docherty, are you the father?”_   
_“Are you two having an affair?”_   
_“Why have you been staying at the Tyler mansion?”_

Rose felt tears welling in her eyes, but did her best to fight them down, bowing her head. The insulting questions didn’t stop, and she was vaguely aware of Ian yelling at them to ‘fuck off’ or ‘go to hell’ while he firmly and quickly guided her somewhere with one arm around her back and the other arm trying to push the intrusive photographers away. She had no idea where they were going, but that question was answered when they got to Ian’s car. He unlocked it and opened the door for her, almost pushing her in. As soon as the door was closed, she heard him berating the photographers while he rounded the bonnet. Rose kept her head down, not looking at the people she heard knocking on the window trying to get her attention. 

The sounds of the paparazzi got louder when Ian opened his door, then quieted again when he closed it. Before he even cranked the engine, he turned to her, looking her over quickly. “Sweetheart, are you alright? Did they hurt you?”

She shook her head, still not looking up. “I’m fine. I’m just fine. Will you take me home?”

“We’re on the way.” He started the car. The press backed off, taking a few steps back, and Ian pulled away.

~*~O~*~

Forty minutes later, Ian stood in the foyer of Pete’s mansion, preparing to go back to work and fucking hating it with a passion.

“Are you _sure_ you’re alright? I can stay…”

Rose shook her head and gave him a weak smile. “I’m fine. A little shaken up, but alright.”

He’d learned long ago how to tell when she was just putting up a brave front, and although he hadn’t seen it in several weeks, he was seeing it now. 

“You will be,” he said, self-assuredly. “Promise me you’ll stay here until Pete gets home.”

“I will.”

“And you’ll stick close to your mum?”

“They’re not going to come up to the house, Ian,” she said, trying for amused.

“I don’t think they will. I’m worried about when you come down from the adrenaline high.”

“I’m not high,” she insisted.

“Well, I am. Will you just find your mum for me?”

She smiled and it was a little more genuine. “I will. Promise.”

He wanted to touch her, he wanted to hold her, he wanted to fucking _stay with her_ , but he had to go back to work. And with the drive ahead of him, parking - he was running late already, and he hadn’t managed to eat.

Rose stepped over and wrapped her arms around him, laying her head on his chest - surprising him - and he let out an expansive breath. He lowered his lips to her hair and wrapped his arms around her, too, inhaling her deeply, loving her with every fiber of his being. 

“Thank you,” Rose murmured. 

“For what, sweetheart?”

“For keeping me safe. For protecting me.”

He pursed his lips against her hair, kissing her softly, then pulled her back so he could look in her eyes. “Rose, I promise you, I fucking _swear_ to you, I will always do anything and everything in my power to keep you and this baby girl safe.”

“It’s a boy,” she said with a soft smile.

“You know I’m right,” he smirked, and her smile grew. “I have to go back to work now, but I’ll be here to play pool later tonight. Want me to check in on you before?”

“Why don’t you just come to mine as soon as you get off work and we’ll eat before you go to shoot?”

Ian’s heart tumbled over itself. “If that’s what you want.”

She nodded. “Text me what you want before you leave, and I’ll go ahead and order it before you get here.”

He chuckled, knowing good and well they’d end up eating whatever she was craving, but agreed. 

“Remember what you promised me,” Ian admonished her. 

Rose recognized his stalling tactic for what it was. “I’m fine. Go back to work. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Unable to stop himself, he gave her one more hug, thanking God she was safe, then turned to leave.

He waited until he was out of the mansion’s circle drive and on the street before he picked up his mobile to ring Pete. The line rang while he took two deep breaths, then Pete picked up.

“Ian! This is a surprise, you usually text. What’s going on?”

“Rose and I were fucking accosted by the paparazzi on our way to lunch just now.”

“Is she alright?!”

“Yes, she’s fine. I put her in the car and took her to Jackie.”

Pete’s voice was different now, harder. “Tell me what happened.”

Ian did, giving Pete all of the pertinent details including location and time. When he started telling him the questions that had been asked, about Rose being Pete’s lover and if she was just in it for the money, the other man gasped.

“They _said_ that to her?”

“Yeah. They fucking did. And she cried all the way home.” He was seething again just thinking about it. 

“Son of a _bitch!_ ”

“Pete, if I hadn’t been worried about protecting Rose, I might very well have done something stupid. I’m not going to allow her to be fucking crowded and yelled at.”

Pete was quiet for a second, then said, “It’s not up to you to allow anything, Ian.”

Ian gritted his teeth, knowing that Pete was right, that he was overstepping. Backing down just a bit, he said, “You’re right. I’m still fucking keyed up. But I care about her, alright? And that had to have been terrifying. I know it was. I could see it all over her face. She was trembling in my arms; I could feel it even in the crush of people.”

Pete sighed on the other end of the line. “I’ll handle it. I’ll call around and pull what strings I have. But it’s not going to go away, Ian. Not completely.”

“I know. I just need to fucking know she’s _safe_.”

There was silence on the other end of the line again. Ian thought for a moment about backpedaling on that statement, too, but decided not to. It was the fucking truth. 

“I do, too,” Pete finally said. “Let me make some calls and arrangements. We’ll see what we can do.”

“Thanks, Pete.”

“Of course.”

The two men rang off and Ian let his eyes slide closed for a second at a traffic light, leaning his head back against the headrest. He was starting to settle down, but he wouldn’t be alright until he got back to the mansion this evening and laid eyes on her. Until then, he’d be worried sick while he tried to concentrate on his patients. 

Fuck. He was a mess. Look at what being in love had done to him. 

Didn’t matter. Everything, all of this bullshit, would be worth it if he had the peace of knowing that she was safe and happy. 

Ian sighed as he parked his car and went back into work.

~*~O~*~

Ian had noticed an uptick in how much he was playing his guitar - _especially_ when he was getting home from the Tyler mansion. He couldn’t help it, though. Being around Rose and not being able to be _with_ her - especially as they grew closer - left his mind muddled more often than not. Then when you factored in the events of the day, well, it was no wonder he needed to decompress a bit tonight.

Rose had still been a bit uptight when he arrived with the chicken shawarma she’d said she was craving, but over the course of the couple of hours he was there, she settled a great deal - and he did, too. Just seeing her was a comfort to him, knowing that she was alright. He trusted Pete to keep her safe but he still needed to lay eyes on her, he needed to know for _himself_ that she was okay. She was scared, he could tell, although she was putting up a brave front. She betrayed herself after they finished eating, though, by scooting over to him and nestling close to his side, under his arm. He hadn’t wanted to leave to play pool, he didn’t think he’d ever wanted to skip something so badly in his life, but doing so may give away his feelings - more than he already was. He wasn’t quite ready for that. 

He and Pete hadn’t talked much about the events of the day while they played, despite Ian asking point-blank what Pete was going to do about it. He hadn’t mentioned any measures he’d be taking, only that he’d be pulling strings and getting things done. Ian wished that he had connections in the press that he could call up and berate until he got his way and they left her alone. Pete might do something vaguely similar to that, but to scream, shout, and swear wasn’t Pete’s style, it was more Ian’s. 

But something had to give. Something had to happen to make sure Rose was safe. Preferably several somethings. Honestly, there could never be enough safeguards in place for her and the baby. He’d wrap her in bubble wrap and cotton and keep her home if he possibly could, just to make sure she was entirely unscathed.

He honestly couldn’t think of the fact that she’d be starting her work at the community center in less than a week. He’d go mad. 

His guitar wailed while his mind spun.

~*~O~*~

4 January 2012

Rose let herself into the back door of the mansion at around five, an hour and a half before she was supposed to meet her mum and Pete for dinner, figuring she could spend a little time visiting with her mum. She’d no sooner taken her coat off and hung it on the coat rack before her mum rounded the corner, nearly running into her.

“Rose!” she exclaimed. “I was just looking for my mobile to ring you. Your dad wants to talk to you.”

“He’s not my dad. Why?”

Jackie seemed to debate with herself for a second. “I think I’ll let him explain it, he’ll do a better job. He’s in his study, if you wouldn’t mind going.”

She gave her mum an inquisitive look, but shrugged and said, “I’ll be back in a few minutes. By the way, what’s for dinner?”

“Beef and mushroom pie.”

“Brilliant,” she smiled. “Be back in a bit.”

Rose made her way down the corridors until she got to Pete’s study and, out of sudden nerves, she straightened her jumper before she knocked and heard Pete call to come in. She opened the door and poked her head in first, then stepped inside. There was another man in a grey suit that Rose didn’t recognize, and both men got to their feet when she stepped inside. 

“You wanted to see me?”

“Yes, I was hoping to speak with you. Thank you for coming.”

“It was no problem. Who’s this?”

“Rose, this is Henry.” Rose took a step forward and extended her hand to the burly stranger. “He’s one of my best agents at Torchwood, and he’s going to be your driver.”

Her nose scrunched up and her hand curled closed before he could take it. 

“We talked about this --” she stopped herself before she could say ‘Pete’, unsure how much of her odd story he’d shared with the man, even if he was a Torchwood agent. “I don’t need a driver.”

“That was when you first came home.” _Ah_ , Rose thought. So Henry didn’t know the full story. “Things have changed. Henry, could you step out for a moment?”

When the study door closed a moment later, Pete turned to Rose. “I know you don’t think it’s necessary, but your mother and I do. What happened yesterday only proves it.”

“It wasn’t that bad, really. Just a couple of obnoxious photographers.”

He studied her for a moment, and Rose could see him weighing his options. Finally he opened the top drawer of his desk and pulled out two red tops. The first one had a picture of her and Ian walking along the street. _Conclusive Evidence the Tyler Heiress is Expecting_ claimed the headline. The second one was even more horrible. It was after they’d been stopped, when the photographers were shouting at them. Ian’s arm was slung low around her waist as he tried to put himself bodily between her and them, his other hand stretched out in front of him. _Is the Doctor the Daddy?_

Rose felt her heart drop to the floor and she gasped. _Is the Doctor the Daddy?_ The words felt like a knife wound, and a sob escaped her before she even realized it had been building. She bit it back, though, refusing to allow herself to succumb to sadness in that moment, despite the headline that seemed to mock her. No one knew about the Doctor here, certainly not the tabs.

The words jumped out at her again, and this time she thought of Ian instead of her madman in a box.

_Is the Doctor the Daddy?_

Somehow, that accusation felt worse. God knows he’d acted like it, and she could understand the reason behind the speculation. She’d thought Ian had been protective of her with Mickey, but it had been nothing compared to how he’d reacted the day before. Flipping open the tab to page five she skimmed over the first paragraph.

_Obstetrician Ian Docherty, 45, (pictured above), a long-time friend of Vitex King Pete Tyler, has frequently been seen in the company of Rose Tyler, 24, since her mysterious appearance last September. Could their friendship be proof that there’s the bump of a new little Tyler under that heavy coat? Or is it something more? The two seemed cozy Tuesday during a lunch excursion, all smiles as they walked hand-in-hand away from the doctor’s office building._

There were another half dozen pictures that accompanied the article, ranging from them walking along the street all the way to one shot that was mostly Ian’s back as he shielded her from their cameras. They’d been taken on a couple different occasions, judging by the different clothes and locations. It felt like a massive invasion of privacy, and this had already happened to her a couple of times. But not Ian.

He didn’t deserve this. She was sure he didn’t want this. Who would? The press hounding him, judging his every move, speculating about his love life… It was a nightmare that she was stuck with, but he didn’t have to be. He may not even want to be around her, if doing so was going to result in an invasion of his privacy. She didn’t think he’d start avoiding her, but she wouldn’t be able to blame him if he did.

The thought caused a twisting in her chest, and she felt tears well again. 

“Do you understand why your mother and I want you to do this?”

Rose nodded, her hand over her mouth while she tried to gather herself.

“We’d like for Henry to drive you everywhere, and act as something of a bodyguard.”

“What about Ian?” she asked. 

Pete gave her a look that she didn’t understand - and didn’t try to in that moment. “If Ian is with you, you don’t need Henry. You may be more heavily targeted if he’s with you, but I trust that he’ll keep you safe. I’ve called in favors and pulled strings with my contacts in the media and what happened yesterday shouldn’t happen again. I couldn’t call them off completely, though, so the idea is that you not be alone when you go out.” 

She just nodded, not entirely sure what else to say. Before she was pregnant, she’d have resented the mandate from Pete. But the incident yesterday had been genuinely frightening, and she knew that even after the baby was born, she would be afraid of what the paparazzi may do. _Especially_ after the baby was born. 

“Yeah, alright.” 

Without another word, she turned and left Pete’s study, feeling just as low as she had when she left three days earlier after telling him to shut down the dimension cannon project. Dinner with her mum and Pete no longer held any appeal so she left, heading back to her little cottage in an almost trance-like state, her thoughts swirling. 

Once there she curled up in Ian’s corner of the couch with the pink blanket he’d given her, staring into space. This was her life now and she needed to get used to it. She accepted that. But Ian didn’t have to put up with this. No rational person would. The thought of losing his friendship was wrenching - more than she would have expected - but she did her best to steel herself to never hear from him again. 

Without her permission, tears started to fall. 

Just a minute later, her mobile went off beside her, playing Ian’s message tone.

~Ian: _How are you?_

He must not have seen the red tops, she thought. Or maybe he had and was just checking on her. She knew that seeing her upset bothered him, so she put on as brave a front as he could when she texted him back.

~Rose: _fine :) you?_  
~Ian: _I’m alright_  
~Ian: _I know it’s not our usual night, but would you like to have dinner?_

She considered him for a minute, torn between what she wanted to do and what she should do. 

~Rose: _I don’t know if I’m up to going out tonight_  
~Ian: _pizza at yours?_

Rose stared at her mobile for a minute, bemused and thinking, then nodded to herself. Ian was one of her only friends in this world. If he wanted to spend time with her, she wasn’t going to tell him no. 

~Rose: _sure :)_  
~Ian: _call in what you want and I’ll pick it up on the way. do you need drinks?_  
~Rose: _no, I have some soda_  
~Ian: _ok. see you in a bit_

She lowered her mobile, feeling cautiously optimistic. Maybe she’d be able to have a friendship in this world, after all.


	24. Chapter 24

4 January 2012 (continued)

Ian laid the pizza box on the front seat of his car carefully, then shut the door and cranked the engine, pulling out onto the road, heading to Rose’s cottage. It was ridiculous and he knew it, but he felt compelled to check on her again today. Yesterday had been frightening, even for him. He couldn’t imagine how Rose must have felt. She’d been shaken, he knew, but she’d settled down as the day wore on. 

Then that morning at work, all of the nurses and receptionists had been looking at him funny. He’d felt something like doom when he asked Clara just what the fuck was going on. She’d been damn near cheerful when she’d produced a pair of red tops featuring him and Rose, and his heart had sank. He’d wanted to call Rose right away and find out if she’d seen the red tops and make sure she was alright, but somehow managed to keep his cool until time to leave work. 

Now he was on the way to her, and just the knowledge that he’d see her soon was a relief. He wouldn’t feel completely at ease, though, until he laid eyes on her.

He pulled up into her little driveway and got out of the car, balancing the pizza on one hand and going to the door. Rose answered right away, and he relaxed a little when he saw her. 

“Hi.”

“Hi,” he smiled. “I picked up the pizza.”

She opened the door wider and he came inside, taking the pizza to the kitchen and setting it on the counter. Rose pulled down some plates and he went to the cupboard to get some cups for their drinks. They moved around each other comfortably, neither really feeling a need to talk right then. 

Once they were done, both carried their plates and drinks to the lounge, having a seat on the couch. Ian looked down at his pizza in surprise.

“Where are the fucking mushrooms?”

“I didn’t get any. You don’t like them.”

“But _you_ do.”

Rose shrugged. “I can certainly live without them.” 

He melted a little. “Sweetheart, get what you want. Don’t worry about me.”

“I _wanted_ you to enjoy the pizza.” Ian started to speak, but she interrupted him. “ _That’s_ what I wanted.”

He backed down, thoroughly chastened, staring at his slice of pizza for a second before he bit into it. It had been a long damn time - decades - since anyone had wanted to take care of him in any way, save Auntie. Joan certainly didn’t (not that he wanted her to), and Jenn had never really been the type to fuss over him, or even take his preferences into account, really. In the same situation, Jenn would have ordered the fucking mushrooms. 

But Rose hadn’t. She had wanted to make him happy in some small way. It may seem like a minor thing, leaving fucking mushrooms off a pizza, but the fact that she’d been so thoughtful touched him deeply and he felt himself fall a little deeper in love with her.

They made light conversation while they ate, nothing of any consequence. He could tell she was anxious about something and was rather sure he knew what it was, but didn’t push her. She’d tell him in her own time. 

Finally, she confirmed his suspicions. “Did you see the red tops today?” Her voice was quiet, almost timid.

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t realize you’d done anything you needed to apologize for.”

“It’s my fault the pap are targeting you.”

“How the fuck is it your fault?”

“They’re trying to get the scoop on the Vitex heiress, and you got caught in the crossfire because you’re my friend.”

“And do you think I fucking care about that?”

“But --”

“No buts. I was well aware that Pete Tyler’s daughter springing up from fucking nowhere was big news. I was also well aware that when the fucking tabloids figured out you were pregnant they were going to shit twice and die, sending every pap at their disposal to harass you. It didn’t fucking matter to me. It _doesn’t_ fucking matter to me.”

Rose had fat tears running down each cheek, and he longed to reach up and wipe them away. His hand twitched, ready for action, but before temptation could get the better of him, she wiped them away herself. 

“You’re still going to be my friend?” she asked in a small voice.

He chuckled a little, couldn’t help it. “Of course I am, sweetheart. It’s going to take a lot more than some fucking photographers to make me run. A hell of a lot more. I’m not so easily scared off.” 

She caught him off guard when she started sliding to him, dropping her plate on the table as she went. He just barely had time to set his own plate on the end table before she was nuzzled into his side, her legs drawn up under her. Ian wasn’t about to question a gift like that - her snuggling into him two nights in a row - he merely put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head, unable to help himself. Rose didn’t seem to mind.

They were quiet for a while and Ian just enjoyed holding her. It was comfortable, he thought, and not just physically. Having her close made him feel… complete, and he did his best to push away the thought of her leaving him when she got the fucking dimension whatsits working and could fly away. Losing her would destroy him, he knew, but he did his best not to think on it. He just hoped the people working on the hoppers were fucking inept and that the fucking Doctor couldn’t do the impossible.

“Pete hired a bodyguard,” Rose said quietly, breaking into his thoughts.

Ian was surprised. “He did?”

She nodded against his chest. “Yeah. Well, technically Pete called him a driver, but it was made clear that he’ll be doing bodyguard duties. I’m not to go out without him.”

His brain swirled. First of all, could this arsehole keep Rose _safe_? Secondly, what the hell did that mean for him? Did that mean that this twat would be following _both_ of them around? 

“If I’m with you, though, I don’t need him.”

“You don’t?”

She shook her head. “No. Pete said that if I’m out with you, I don’t need Henry.”

Something in his chest swelled to three times its normal size. Pete trusted him to take care of Rose, to keep her safe. He was honored. And he was damned determined not to let his best friend down.

He traced his fingers up and down Rose’s arm idly, barely aware that he was doing it. “So this bloke’s name is Henry, eh?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s he like?”

Rose shrugged. “He’s not as tall as I would have expected. Short brown hair, I didn’t catch his eyes.”

“You didn’t talk to him?”

“No. I expect there will be plenty of time to chat when he’s driving me all over town.”

Ian didn’t say anything for a minute, his thoughts swirling and troubled, then Rose nudged him in the side. “You alright?”

“Yeah. I’m great,” he smiled, then went back to scowling a bit when she turned away.

_Rose_ may not have talked to this tosser, but Ian sure as shit planned to.

~*~O~*~

9 January, 2012

Ian looked around the car park a little dubiously. He had to admit that it wasn’t as bad as he’d expected - there didn’t appear to be any hoodlums hanging around smoking and harassing women as they passed - but he was still wary. It was easy for him to pick out the car that Rose must have come in, sleek and black amongst all of the older model cars. He assumed that meant this Henry bloke had stayed with her and not gone to get a coffee or some shit, leaving Rose at the community center by herself. 

Locking his car, he walked into the center, looking around. He was pleased to find it clean, the faint smell of bleach in the air. It seemed well-organized on first glance, decorated with bright colors and encouraging posters featuring cartoon animals. Some other posters detailed how to stand up to peer pressure, and what to do if you felt like you were in danger at home. As soon as it really hit him that this was a center for at-risk children, Rose’s motivation for wanting to teach here made perfect sense. Of course his sweetheart, who had taken care of refugees and orphaned children on other war-torn planets, would be drawn to the opportunity to help these children. And that wasn’t even taking into consideration the fact she had grown up on the estates and may have benefited from a program like this herself. 

Children were gathered at a couple of tables, but he didn’t see Rose and assumed she was in one of the rooms that branched off from the main area. One of the rooms, just ahead and on the right, appeared to be an office. Thinking he’d be most likely to get information there, he started that way. 

“Dr. Docherty.”

Startled, he turned around towards the voice that had spoken his name to see a man getting to his feet from the bench he’d been sitting on. He wore a grey suit and drab tie, both of which screamed ‘government employee’ to Ian. The man was a couple inches shorter than Ian but stockier, with a build more like Fergus. Ian eyed him warily as the man approached, but took the offered hand. 

“I’m Dr. Docherty. Can I help you?”

“Mr. Tyler said I would be running into you at some point. I have to admit, I didn’t expect it to be so soon.”

He had a hunch, but didn’t give it away. Not yet. “And you are?”

“Henry Wells. I’m Miss Tyler’s driver.”

“Ah,” Ian said for lack of anything better to say, looking over him with a much more critical eye. Knowing that this man was going to be in close proximity with Rose, he surreptitiously looked at Henry’s left hand. There was a ring there, and Ian was relieved. 

“I’ve been hoping to speak with you. Shall I call you Henry?”

“If you’d like. That’s what Miss Tyler is calling me.”

“You call her Miss Tyler?”

Henry grinned a little. “She’s instructed me to call her ‘Rose’ but so far, I’ve kept to ‘Miss Tyler’. I’m sure she’ll wear me down eventually.” 

“Splendid,” Ian said, not really thinking about it. Then he got down to business. “What gives you the qualifications to act as a bodyguard for Rose?”

“I’ve done this sort of work before.”

“For Torchwood?”

Henry narrowed his eyes a bit at Ian. “You’re aware of Torchwood?”

“Well aware. Pete Tyler is my best friend.” He deliberately left off the fact that Pete had kept the secret of Torchwood from him for _years_.

“Yes,” Henry went on in a lowered voice. “I’m an agent for Torchwood.”

“And you think that makes you fucking qualified to guard a pregnant woman?”

“I’m quite sure I’m qualified.”

“What if she’s accosted by the paparazzi again?”

“They won’t get near her.”

“They’d damned well better not. What if at this community center, some fucking nutter decides that it would be fun to kidnap or even murder a pregnant heiress?” Ian felt himself growing more agitated, but was helpless to stop it. “What then?”

“Nobody that I don’t like is getting near her,” Henry said, and Ian didn’t like the tone of his voice or the implications of it. He fucking _dared_ this dipshit to try to keep him away from her. 

“Are you prepared to take a bullet for her? Or a wound from any other sort of weapon? Are you _sure_ you can keep her fucking _safe_? ” 

Henry raised his eyebrows in challenge, but Ian saw understanding dawn in the other man’s eyes as well. Perhaps he’d said too much. 

“Before I was with Torchwood,” Henry started, “I was with MI6. I was a decorated agent there, and have been decorated at Torchwood as well. I’ve consistently had top marks in marksmanship, hand-to-hand combat, and myriad other areas that will aid me in keeping Miss Tyler safe. You have no cause for concern, Dr. Docherty.”

“I certainly fucking hope not. Because if anything happens to Rose Tyler - anything at all - I will come to find you, and I will never, ever stop. You’ll find that it’s a very small universe when I’m angry with you.”

Before Henry could say anything else, a voice asked from behind him, “Can I help you, sir?”

Ian spun away from Henry to find a young woman looking at him curiously. She seemed to be a fair few years older than Rose, yet younger than him. She wore a plain tan jumper over a blouse and brown trousers. Her brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail, revealing a face free of makeup, and large, thick glasses sat on her nose. He suspected she had the capacity to be quite pretty, but as it was, she was rather plain. Perhaps that was her intention.

“Yes, hello,” Ian said with a smile, putting on the charm. “My name is Dr. Ian Docherty. I’m here to see Rose Tyler.”

"Ah, Dr. Docherty, Rose's bloke. I should have recognized you."

Ian stammered. "I'm not… I mean _we're_ not..."

She narrowed her eyes at him a little. "You're not? But all the papers have said..."

He did his best to recover from the embarrassment. "Unfortunately, a paper's job is to sell papers, not tell the truth." He offered his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss…”

“Osgood. Petronella Osgood. I’m the director of this facility.”

One corner of his mouth quirked in genuine amusement. “‘Petronella Osgood’ is quite a mouthful.”

Ian got the impression she’d probably heard that many, many times before when she looked a bit tired and answered, “You can call me Osgood, everyone does.”

“Right, yes.”

“How do you know Rose if… if the tabloids are wrong?”

Ian felt a pang at the answer he was forced to give. “She’s a friend. A family friend.”

He heard a scoff from behind him and started to turn around and bollock Henry, but Osgood spoke again.

“Ah,” the young woman said, sounding disbelieving. “Well, she’s teaching right now and I’d hate to interrupt her class.” She looked over her shoulder and Ian followed her gaze to one of the rooms, spotting a child at an easel. He assumed that’s where Rose was. 

Osgood went on. “If you’d like to wait, you’re welcome to. She should be done in the next few minutes or so.”

“Yes, thank you,” Ian smiled, then turned to Henry when the young woman walked away. “You’re relieved. I’m here.”

“I hardly think --”

“I know for a fact that Pete said if I was around, you needn’t be. I’m around. You can take the car back now.”

“And just why should I trust you to stay with her?”

Ian stepped forward and lowered his voice until it sounded menacing - which was exactly how he wanted it. “You can trust me because there is absolutely nothing - literally fucking _nothing_ \- that I wouldn’t do to keep her safe. If there is air in my lungs, you can know with absolute goddamn certainty that Rose Tyler is safe.”

Henry looked him up and down, sizing him up the same way Ian had done upon meeting him, then finally nodded. “I’ll take the car back to the mansion, then. I do hope, however, that since we clearly have the same objective and will be dealing with each other often, we’ll be able to work together well.” 

He extended his hand to Ian. Ian recognized the olive branch for what it was and accepted it, giving a curt nod when he shook the hand. “I expect we will. Good day, Henry. I’ll see Rose home safely.”

“Thank you, Dr. Docherty.”

He waited until Henry had gone and had a seat on the bench that had just been vacated. With the noise of the children playing in the background, his thoughts whirled. For the first time, he wondered how Rose would react to him being there to pick her up. She may not see it as a good thing, he realized. She may see him as overstepping his bounds, being creepy. The thought was paralyzing and he wondered wildly if he should call Henry back so he could turn tail and run. 

The door to the classroom opened and Ian panicked, fight or flight kicking in powerfully. Should he run? What to do? Fucking hell, how was she going to react?

Rose stepped out of the room with her hand on a young boy’s shoulder, smiling down at him. He was looking up at her as if she were an angel, which Ian could certainly empathize with. 

“I’ll see you on Wednesday, Mark. Yeah?”

“Yes, Miss Rose.”

The boy took off towards some other activity, and Rose looked up and spotted Ian. His heart froze in his chest, terror seizing him, until Rose’s face bloomed into a smile and he was able to breathe. She started over to him and he got to his feet.

“Hey, you,” she greeted him, beaming, coming to a stop a bit closer than he would have expected - but certainly wasn’t complaining about. “What are you doing here?”

Ian cleared his throat subtly, regaining his composure. “I thought I’d come see you after your first day, maybe take you to dinner. If you want.”

Her tongue came to the corner of her mouth and she swayed a little where she stood. “Yeah, I think so. That sounds nice. Just let me tell Osgood…”

He wasn’t about to argue, he was too happy and relieved to do any such thing. “Go do what needs doing. I’ll be here when you’re done.”

Rose gave him one more bright smile then flounced off towards what Ian had guessed was the office. She ducked her head inside, leaning against the doorframe, then straightened and Osgood came out with her. The two women talked, each smiling at the other, until they came to Ian and Rose gestured to him.

“Osgood, this is my friend --”

The other woman nodded. “I met him. Dr. Docherty.”

“Please, call me Ian.”

Osgood smiled, looking almost shy. “Ian. Of course.”

“So I’ll be back on Wednesday, yeah? Half two?”

“Yep! That sounds good. You had a great first day, Rose.”

Rose flushed a little, pleased. “Thank you.” She turned towards the door and Ian helped her put on her heavy winter coat, then put his hand at the small of her back, just wanting to touch her. She turned around to wave to Osgood. “See you Wednesday!”

“See you!”

Ian couldn’t wait another second, and reached down to take her hand. “C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s go celebrate your first day.” 

She beamed up at him, and the two of them stepped out into the January chill.

~*~O~*~

Ian decided to check to see if Pete was around before he went home for the night. Pete was looking half amused/half annoyed when Ian came into the billiards room.

"What's up your arse?" Ian asked, going to the wall to fetch the break stick.

“You.”

He snorted. “I am many things, my friend, but up your arse isn’t one of them.”

Pete’s expression never changed. "Heard you had a talk with Henry."

Caught out but trying not to seem rattled, Ian said flippantly, "So?"

"Well? Did he pass muster?"

He shrugged, then bent to break the rack. "I suppose. Seems a bit of a fucking dandy."

Pete scoffed. "He's not. He’s a highly decorated Torchwood agent.”

“So he said,” Ian grumbled.

“Honestly, Ian, do you think I'd send my daughter out unprotected?"

Ian straightened his shoulders in defiance. "Nothing wrong with me checking."

“Rose is my daughter. There’s nothing I won’t do to keep her safe.” He paused for a second, then went on in a lower voice. “I hear you feel the same way.”

He willed his heart rate to slow down, his palms to stop sweating. It didn’t work. All he could do was pray to the baby Christ he didn’t look as scared as he was. 

“I do feel that way. She’s important to me.” He braced himself for the half-truth he was about to tell. “She’s a wonderful friend.”

Pete looked skeptical, his eyes narrowed, but didn’t say anything. He just bent over the table and shot at the twelve.


	25. Chapter 25

11 January 2012

"I'm sorry, Henry."

"For what, ma'am?"

"This can't be a good detail for you, carting around a pregnant woman."

"My wife is thrilled. A much _easier_ detail."

"But _you're_ not."

"I'm protecting a young woman and her baby. Nothing more important than that." Rose started to say something but he went on before she could. "And I was reminded of such by Dr. Docherty."

"What?"

"He caught me and grilled me a bit. Curious about my qualifications. He wanted to ensure your safety. Seemed rather… _intent_ on making sure I'd keep you safe."

Warmth bloomed in Rose's chest and a smile spread across her face. She glanced out of the window as they pulled up to the community center and missed Henry's knowing look in the rearview.

Henry parked the car and they went into the building together. She’d been surprised to discover that she actually _liked_ Henry, and she was no longer angry about him driving her. It was much more convenient than calling a cab, and although she had spotted men with cameras, none had been so foolish as to approach her. Henry stopped at the bench by the door and Rose continued through to her classroom, waving at Osgood when the other woman looked up from the table where she was helping a few sixth form students revise. 

The younger children hadn’t arrived yet and Rose took the opportunity to set out canvases and palettes with a range of unusual paint choices. As much as she loved Ian’s idea of incorporating the things she’d seen during her travels, it was only the second lesson and the students needed to learn some basic techniques first. But she could start by not limiting their imaginations to primary colors. She’d just finished with her preparations when the door opened and her students began trickling in. 

Rose threw on a bright smile and welcomed them. She knew from her own experiences that some days the only smiles these children would see directed at them would come from teachers, and even those would oftentimes be plastic and forced, so she made an effort to be as natural as possible. It helped that she truly enjoyed seeing them again and was looking forward to another great lesson. She got them started right away on some simple exercises while they waited for the rest of the students to arrive, and once everyone was ready she jumped in with basic figure drawing.

Before she knew it, the 45 minute class was at an end and it was time to wash paintbrushes and palettes and put away any unused supplies. She stepped out of the class to see that Ian had once again replaced Henry on the bench by the door, and she smiled fondly, thinking she should have expected that he would show up and want to take her home. He still seemed fidgety about Henry, and she hoped that the questioning he’d apparently done on Monday had eased things somewhat. She supposed the fact that he was there suggested there was still some lingering distrust on his part, although Henry’s absence showed a trust for Ian from her driver. 

“Miss Rose?”

She looked down to see Mark looking up at her. He had dark hair and dark eyes and was on the small side for his age, not something uncommon with kids from the estates, but he was also clever and really sweet. 

“I wanted you to have this,” he said, offering her the picture they’d just finished, the paint on one corner still tacky.

Rose knew better than to suggest that he take it home to his mum, well aware of the pitfalls of that potential minefield. She squatted down to look him in the eyes. “Thank you, Mark. It’s lovely.”

He blushed then rushed off, and before she could attempt to stand on her own a pair of long legs filled her vision. Ian lowered his hand to help her and she took it gratefully.

“You know,” she teased once she was upright again, her hand still clasped firmly in his, “Henry is a perfectly safe driver.”

Rose regretted the words immediately when uncertainty stole over his features and his fingers went slack against her own. “I --”

Daft man. As if she’d prefer the company of a driver she barely knew to him. 

"I was going to have Henry bring me to pick up some takeaway on the way home. How does chips sound? We can watch The Yard.”

“It’s Wednesday,” he said, nose wrinkling.

She laughed. “So? We’re still just watching old episodes on Netflix until the series starts up again. What difference does it make?”

His grip on her hand tightened. “It’s Wednesday,” he stressed as though that explained everything. “We’ll have to find something else to watch.”

Still laughing, Rose waved goodbye to Osgood as she let Ian guide her towards the door.

~*~O~*~

12 January 2012

Ian wanted to grumble when he picked up the little shopping basket at Tesco’s and started down the appropriate aisle. He should be grumbling. He _deserved_ to grumble, and there was no person on this world that would blame him, given the situation he found himself in. He’d be totally justified. 

But of course, he was on an errand for Rose, so he just got on with it.

Rose had said she wanted curry for dinner before they watched The Yard and Ian had faithfully picked it up. They’d settled in on the couch with the food, just as they always did on Thursday evenings, but he’d noticed that she was only picking at her food - not really eating. His first attempts to find out what was wrong with her had resulted in being brushed off, but she finally admitted to having a craving. Ian had laughed at her silliness in keeping such a secret. Why would she be shy about something like that?, he asked. She only needed tell him what she wanted and if it was in his power, he’d get it for her. Just name it. He’d go right now.

Fish fingers and custard. The daft, hormonal woman wanted _fish fingers and custard._

He’d stared at her blankly for a few minutes, not sure if he’d heard her correctly, fighting to keep his face neutral and not show his disgust at the very idea. 

“Nevermind,” she’d said, flushing and avoiding his gaze. “It was a stupid idea. It’s just a craving, nothing important.”

“No, of course it’s important,” he’d assured her, brushing aside his own revulsion. “I was just wondering which Tesco’s is closest.”

“You were not,” she accused him with a grin. “You think it’s disgusting.”

“Well, alright, that’s true,” he admitted, and she laughed. “It sounds fucking revolting.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she laughed. “We’ll clean up and watch The Yard.”

“We’ll clean up and I’ll head to Tesco’s, you can watch whatever you want until I get back.”

“Ian --”

“No, I’ve told you before that often, with cravings, your body is trying to get something it needs. I have no fucking clue what it could be trying to get from fucking fish fingers and custard, but I’m not willing to deny you, either.”

The smile she’d given him would have knocked him on his arse had he not already been sitting. 

So here he was in the dairy aisle, a box of frozen fish fingers in his basket, staring at the cups of prepackaged custard in front of him, trying to decide what flavor she’d want. Vanilla? Chocolate? Fudge? Fucking tapioca?

Deciding to play it safe and wanting to get out of the grocery store quickly before anyone he knew saw him with fucking fish fingers and custard in his basket, he grabbed a variety pack and left quickly.

When he got back to the cottage he went inside and looked around to find the place empty.

“Rose?”

She didn’t answer, and he grew a little alarmed until he saw a note lying on the counter. 

_Gone stargazing. I’m out at the swing. ~R_

He smiled at her looping manuscript then went to the oven, spreading out the fish fingers and putting them in. He set the timer on his mobile and on the way out of the door to the garden he grabbed the pink blanket off the back of the couch. 

The swing was just far enough away that Rose couldn’t hear the door open and close, but once his footsteps got closer, she turned around and grinned brightly at him. He just barely managed to keep from melting into a puddle. 

“Hey you,” she greeted him. “What’s that you’ve got there?”

“Your blanket.”

“It’s almost downright warm out here.”

“It’s not warm enough for you to be sitting out in the night air like this,” he retorted, circling to the front of the swing and covering her with the blanket, taking care to cover her as best he could while not touching her unnecessarily. “If you catch a cold, there’s nothing I can do to help you.”

“You’re not supposed to. You’re not my doctor.” 

“Nevertheless,” he said, sitting down and a little rattled by the unintended double meaning to what she’d said. She’d been teasing, he could tell by her tone and the tongue in the corner of her mouth. Still. “It’s best to keep you fucking warm.”

Her eyes twinkled at him for a second while he settled into his side of the swing delicately, and he was pleased when she scooted over to him, sliding under his arm, cuddling into his side and draping the blanket over the both of them. He simply put his arm around her and thanked whatever lucky stars were twinkling down on him. 

“Comfy?” he asked, bemused but pleased. 

Rose continued to settle into his side. “Mmhm.”

He chuckled. “Good.” Unable to stop himself, he kissed the top of her hair then said, “Your fish fingers are in the oven. They should be ready before too long.”

“Hope not too soon. I’m happy here,” she sighed, and he closed his eyes. God only knew how happy he was right there, with her, and he soaked the sensation of contentment and peace that she gave him down into the marrow of his bones. 

The pair were quiet for a while and Ian started to wonder if Rose had nodded off when she surprised him by speaking. “The stars are different here, too.”

He swallowed his anxiety. “They are?”

“A bit, yeah. Some of them are nearly right, but not quite. I’ve spent a fair amount of time out here, looking up, trying to familiarize myself with your sky.” Her voice didn’t sound sad, though, or even resigned, really. It was just a statement of fact. It left him hopeful. 

“What’s different?”

Rose shrugged, her shoulder nudging against his side as she did. “They aren’t glaring differences, really. You’d have to pay attention to notice. But things are just...different.” 

He wondered if, under different starlight, she’d glow the way she seemed to glow right now. He wondered if the moon in her original universe would illuminate the strands of her hair the way it did here, and he wondered if anyone in that universe - including the fucking Doctor she loved so much - had ever truly appreciated just how goddamn gorgeous and perfect she really was. 

It was all academic, though, and it didn’t really matter. She was here now, in this world, and _he_ knew beyond any fucking doubt that she was a treasure beyond anyone’s imagining - even his. 

Christ, but he was mad about this woman. He had no idea what would become of him when she left to go back to her original universe. Many hours of sleep had been lost wondering just that.

“Are you looking forward to your scan on Tuesday?” he asked when it popped in his mind. 

“Yeah, I guess.” Her tone was somewhat apprehensive and he felt her body tense against his. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s _wrong_ , I’m just...what if there’s something wrong with my baby?”

Ian hugged her close. “There’s nothing wrong with your baby. I promise.”

“You can’t promise that,” she admonished him, sitting up a little and turning to look at him almost imploringly. “There’s no way for you to know that.”

“I do know,” he assured her, hoping against hope he wouldn’t be proven wrong. “You’re carrying a perfectly healthy baby girl.”

Rose ignored his tease about the baby’s sex. “I’ll be lucky if I’m having a perfectly healthy _child_ , much less a _human_ child!”

 _Fuck._ Ian forgot sometimes that the baby Rose carried wasn’t human - wasn’t _his_. This baby belonged to a man - an alien, rather - who wasn’t around. She was right; there were a great deal of unknowns and the baby she carried was more likely to be different in some way. 

But that wasn’t his concern right now. Right now, his concern was the fact that he could feel her trembling - and not with cold. Anxiety had gotten its hooks in her and Ian set out to calm her down. 

“Relax, sweetheart,” he said, pulling her close against him, where she belonged. “This baby is perfectly fine and I promise, everything will be okay. No matter what.”

“Even if he has extra organs and stuff?”

“Even if _she_ has extra body parts,” he assured her, laying his cheek on her hair. “We’ll deal with whatever we find, good or bad. She’ll still be your daughter and I promise, you’re going to love her so much, Rose.” 

“I already do love _him_ ,” she said from under his arm, and he could hear her smiling. 

“Her.”

“We’ll see,” she teased. 

Before he could respond, the timer on his phone went off. He cursed it soundly while he dug it out of his pocket to turn it off. 

“Are you getting a call?”

“No, your fish fingers are done. Time to go inside.”

Rose beamed at him. “You really went to get fish fingers?”

“Did you doubt I would?”

“Really? You got custard, too?”

Ian gave her a hurt look. “I’m wounded, Rose.”

She tittered, then got to her feet. Ian followed and the the two of them walked side-by-side back to her door. Once there, Rose muttered an excuse and dashed for the loo, making him grin. 

“What flavor of custard?” he called towards her retreating back.

“Vanilla!”

When she came back, he had opened up a container of custard and was carrying it to the lounge with a plate full of hot fish fingers and a spoon. Rose wasted no time plopping down in the corner of the couch, taking the custard he was offering, then reaching forward to grab a fish finger off of the plate in front of her. Ian was helpless to do anything but watch, horrified, as she dipped it into the custard.

“You’re not going to fucking --”

It was too late. The fish finger went into her mouth and Rose bit down, closing her eyes and her mouth in bliss, making a noise that Ian desperately, _desperately_ wanted to hear from her again, preferably while he was shagging her rotten up against the wall. He watched, wide-eyed, as she made little noises of satisfaction while she chewed, his eyes fixed on the little bit of creamy custard on the corner of her mouth. Rose looked directly at him and, her eyes twinkling, darted her tongue to the corner of her mouth and licked the custard away. 

Ian’s cock twitched in his pants and he did his best not to faint from sheer desire. Rose, the minx, either didn’t realize the effect she was having on him or didn’t care. She continued eating her fish fingers in this manner, dipping them in the custard, until they were all gone and then - sweet baby Jesus in a tuxedo t-shirt - she stuck her finger down into the cup and gathered up all the remaining custard, then pulled her finger out and licked it clean. 

Wildly, he considered excusing himself to her bathroom for the wank of a fucking lifetime, but she gave him a sunny, oblivious smile and he was able to pull himself together. 

“So!” she started, leaning forward to put her empty cup on the empty plate with the unused spoon he’d brought. He took the opportunity to shift in his seat a bit, adjusting and allowing himself more room, and when Rose sat back up she was holding the baby name book. “Care to peek at a few names?”

“No need,” he said, feeling cheeky. “I’m thinking this baby is a Hannah.”

Rose raised an eyebrow. “Hannah?”

“Sure, why not?”

“Well, I’ve never met a boy named Hannah,” she giggled. “That’ll set him apart.”

“Quite,” he agreed, grinning. “What _did_ you have in mind?”

“Well, see, this book has a section of Scottish names…”

Ian raised an eyebrow. “Does it now?”

“Mmhm,” Rose nodded, biting her lip. “And I’m thinking Archibald.”

“Archibald!?”

“Could call him ‘Archie’?”

“No.”

“Awh, you’re no fun. How about…” she turned the page and grinned down at the book. “Cormac?”

“No. No fucking way. Have you ever known a Cormac?”

“No…”

“Fuckstains, the lot of ‘em. Think they’re geniuses, but you could scrape more intelligence off a boot.”

She went back to her book, grinning, and threw out more options. “Cuthbert? Duncan? Eachann? Erskine?”

Ian shuddered, earning a giggle from Rose. Then he scooted over so that he was sitting next to her and could see the book. “There. How about Eric? That’s a good, solid name.”

“Nah. I knew an Eric once. One of those blokes who thought he was God’s gift.”

He knew the type and dismissed the idea at once.

“How about,” she suggested. “Oh, Fergus. Could name the baby after your cousin.”

“Well, you’re welcome to, but I can’t imagine ever naming a poor, innocent child after a twat like that.”

Rose laughed, flipping through the book again. The laugh died and the smile faded just a bit into something Ian couldn’t place. “Here’s your name,” she said, pointing.

He followed her finger to find his name there: _IAIN, IAN, EOIN - Gaelic forms of ‘John’_

Rose didn’t say anything for a few moments. Finally, she said, “I didn’t know your name was related to John.”

“Yes,” he confirmed. “Means ‘God is gracious’.”

She was quiet a little longer and he wondered just what she was thinking. Before he had a chance to ask, she spoke again, and was it the lighting or were her cheeks a little flushed…?

“You know, I don’t know your middle name.”

Ian stiffened and scrambled for something to say. He hadn’t seen this coming and didn’t want to discuss it. 

“I don’t know yours either,” he shot back desperately. 

“Marion,” she supplied at once.

He was surprised. “Like Maid Marion?”

Rose shrugged. “Possibly, I don’t know. Mum never said.” She eyed him up and down, sizing him up. “Alright then, I told you mine, you tell me yours.”

He went ramrod straight again and sounded strained in his own ears. “My name?”

“Did I say something wrong?”

He sighed, feeling beaten - but still afraid. “No, you didn’t. It’s nothing to do with you. It’s entirely me.”

Rose looked terribly confused. “I don’t understand…”

“I hate my middle name,” he blurted. “Hate it with a fucking passion.”

“Oh,” Rose said, nonplussed. 

“It’s just… that moment, you know? You have this opinion of me now that you’ve had for months, but as soon as you find out my name, that opinion is bound to change.”

She laughed. “I could never think less of you because of what your parents named you! It’s not your fault and it doesn’t define who you are. Think about it - it’s like Marion. I share a name with this strong woman from history, but you know perfectly well that I’m anything but strong. Think of all the times I’ve blubbered all over you!”

Ian was blown away that she could possibly think that of herself. “I think you’re the strongest, bravest woman I’ve ever known,” he said quietly.

Rose flushed brightly, ducking her head, and he cursed himself and his mouth. Desperate to salvage the situation, he blurted, “Quincy.”

“Pardon?”

“My middle name. It’s Quincy.”

He waited for the outburst of laughter like the one he’d gotten from Jenn, but it never came. She just looked at him quizzically. It was disconcerting, but at least she wasn’t embarrassed anymore. 

“How did you end up with an English name?”

“Hmm?”

“Ian and Docherty are both Scottish names. How’d you end up with an English middle name?”

It wasn’t anything like the mockery he’d expected - and he was thrilled. Should have known his sweetheart would be different. 

“Well, my Mum and Da met at Uni in London. Da said he’d seen Mum on campus, that she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever clapped eyes on. He told me he tried for almost a year to talk to her, he even learned some Italian --”

“Your mum’s Italian?”

Ian nodded, a little surprised. “Yeah. Hadn’t I told you that?” 

Rose shook her head, then backtracked a bit. “Well, you might have. I seem to forget everything these days.”

“Perfectly normal,” Ian grinned. “But yeah, Mum came to Uni from Italy. Da learned some Italian so he could talk to her, but he didn’t have the fucking guts to do it. He caught a lucky break when one of his mates started dating one of Mum’s friends. Da was able to learn about her, see? He found out that she was staying for the summer term, and he decided to do the same. Then he found out her schedule and signed up to take one of her classes, hoping he could talk to her. The professor was John Quincy.”

Rose grinned. “So your dad swept your mum off your feet?”

“Nah. Da still couldn’t get up the nerve to talk to her. But the professor matched them as partners for some fucking project and they were thrown together. They finished the work and when the marks came back, they’d made an A. Da grabbed Mum right in the middle of the corridor and kissed her. They’d never even had coffee.” Ian laughed, remembering the way his father’s eyes would twinkle when he’d tease his mother. “Come to find out, Mum had been nursing something of a crush on my da for months, as well, but she wasn’t brave enough to pursue him.”

Ian couldn’t help but be pleased to see that Rose practically had hearts in her eyes from the story of his parents’ meeting. 

“So they named you after the reason they were together.”

"That arsehole isn’t the reason they were together! I wish he’d never crossed paths with my parents."

“Oh, don't say that,” she admonished him, putting her hand on his arm and distracting him terribly.

“Why the hell not? The bloke inadvertently cursed me with a horrible name that I hate.”

“But if hadn't been for him, your parents may not have gotten the chance to fall in love.” He started to protest, but she went on. “If they hadn't met and fallen in love, you wouldn't be here. And I'm _glad_ you're here.”

He swallowed hard. “Yeah?”

“Of course I am,” she reassured him with a small smile. “I don't know where I'd be without you.”

Ian was quiet for a minute and Rose looked away, her face red again. “How about,” Ian said, hoping to ease her discomfort, “if I wish that arsehole had been named anything other than fucking ‘Quincy’.” 

Rose tittered. “I think that's perfectly safe.”

Ian pulled her just a little closer and kissed the top of her hair, content, comfortable, and she sighed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 25! We're 1/4 of the way through this story! 
> 
>  


	26. Chapter 26

13 January 2012  
Week Twenty 

Ian was deep in a chart, doing his best to keep himself distracted. He’d invited Rose to lunch today on a whim, hoping to surprise her and ease her mind. She’d accepted, confirmed with him a couple of hours ago after he’d made the arrangements, and was now due any minute. He thought he was doing the right thing, he felt _sure_ he was doing the right thing, but he wouldn’t know until the moment he saw Rose’s face when he told her what he’d done.

Just like with every appointment she’d had, he had left instructions with Margaret to call him when she arrived so he could fetch her himself. Rose had been unfailingly punctual, but the clock had just struck eleven and she hadn’t arrived yet. He was anxious but doing his best not to be. Rose was a nervous wreck, he knew, and he wouldn’t be doing her any favors by appearing upset when he was supposed to be having a perfectly normal day.

A knock came at the door and before he could say anything, Clara poked her head in the door. "Doctor, your girlfriend's here."

"She's not my… _fuck_." It never failed to sting when Clara teased him like this.

"I don’t know why you keep denying it."

"Because there’s nothing going on," he answered, getting to his feet and taking off his lab coat.

"You’ll be so much happier once you just admit that there’s something there."

Ian did his best not to wince. "There’s nothing there. She’s my friend and that’s all." 

Clara snorted while he was slipping off his lab coat. “Yeah. Your friend that you’re rearranging the day’s schedule for.”

He ignored her. "Do me a favor and go alert Ross that she’s here. We’ll meet her at the radiography room. Now, if you’ll excuse me..." He brushed by her and started towards the front of the office, not pausing to hear what she had to say. When he got to the lobby he opened the door and saw Rose immediately. Just the sight of her sitting in the corner and bouncing her leg made something in him ease, and a smile spread across his face. 

"Rose?"

She looked up quickly as if startled, but she smiled and seemed to relax a little bit when she saw him. He smiled back at her, feeling some of the tension bleed out of him with just her presence. Her smile stayed in place as she crossed the large lobby and walked through the door he held open for her. 

"Hi," she smiled.

"Hi," he said back with a bright smile. “Ready?”

“Are you even able to go to lunch right now? Seems a bit early just yet…”

Ian took a deep breath and closed his eyes for just a second, then pulled Rose to a stop, putting his hands on her arms lightly. 

“I did want to take you to lunch, yes, but after your scan.”

She laughed merrily. “My scan is Tuesday, you daft thing. Did you get the dates confused?”

“No,” he said, his heart pounding in his chest. “I rescheduled it for today.”

Rose’s eyes were wide when she looked up at him. “You rescheduled it?”

Ian stroked his thumb along her forearm, needing to soothe himself as much as her. “I did. If you want, we’ll walk straight to the radiography room and see this little girl now.”

She just looked at him for a couple of minutes and he couldn’t place her expression, then her face burst into an excited smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he grinned. “I couldn’t stand the thought of you being anxious for several more days when I had the ability to do something to make it better.”

Rose squealed and almost launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and he couldn’t help but laugh and pull her closer. From the corner of his eye he noticed some of the staff nurses looking at them oddly - including Clara looking smug - but he didn’t give a fuck. Rose was happy because of something he’d done. He was on top of the world.

“Thank you,” she murmured, and her breath against his neck sent a shiver all through him. “Thank you for this.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” To preserve both his sanity and what was left of his reputation, he pulled away from her. “Now. Are you ready to see your baby?"

She beamed. "As ready as I’ll ever be." 

"This is going to be a cakewalk," he told her, starting towards the radiography room again and ignoring the curious looks. "You just lay back and enjoy seeing her."

"Him. And my mother may never forgive you for this," Rose warned him with a bright smile as they each took a seat in the small waiting area outside of the radiography room.

Ian scoffed. "She’ll get over it. I'm not fucking worried about it."

She smiled a little, but looked away. Her knee bounced up and down and she bit her thumb. Seeing her that anxious tore at his heart - he’d thought he’d be alleviating that for her, but he supposed he should have expected that her anxiety would only increase until she actually laid eyes on the baby.

"Hey," he said, reaching over and covering her hand with his. She stopped bouncing her leg and looked at him with eyes wide. “It’s going to be alright, Rose. I’m going to be with you, and there’s no reason to be worried. You’ve been having a perfectly normal and healthy pregnancy so far. I’m sure it’s going to continue to be that way."

She didn’t answer, but she turned her hand and curled her fingers through his. 

"I’m just afraid there’ll be something wrong with my baby, like I told you last night," she confessed. "Not...not alien or anything, really. Just something...wrong."

"Everything will be fine. I’m certain of it." Ian lowered his voice to a conspiratorial near-whisper. "Today’s the day you get proof that this baby is a girl."

Rose grinned at that, and Ian was relieved. "I hope you have a tenner on hand, because I’m gonna win that bet."

"How about lunch instead?" he offered. "I really did plan on taking you to lunch after your scan. How about the loser of the bet treats?"

"You’re on," she agreed and he smiled at her, sliding his thumb along the back of her hand.

It was only a moment more before Christine bustled around the corner, Rose’s chart in her hand. She smiled at Rose. "You ready?"

Rose nodded. He noticed Christine’s eyes dart down and take in the sight of Rose’s hand joined with his, but she didn’t say anything about it. Instead she beckoned Rose to follow her into the ultrasound room. 

The lights in the room were low to afford everyone the best view of the screen. Rose obediently got onto the table that had her reclining at a forty-five degree angle, raised her jumper then pushed down the elastic of her maternity denims. Ian itched to touch her bump, to lay his hand on it, but refrained. It wasn’t his place. 

"Here comes the cold," Christine said by way of warning, but Rose still jumped when the jelly was squirted all over her belly. Almost at once, Christine got out the wand and put it in the jelly, smearing it all around.

Rose looked over at Ian, giving him a weak smile that was more of a grimace. She was trying so hard to be brave, and it almost hurt to see her that way. He never wanted to see her afraid, anytime, ever. She reached for his hand and gripped it tight, then, seeming to be more settled, she turned back towards Christine. Ian scooted his chair closer to where Rose lay, hoping his proximity would help somehow.

Christine was looking at the screen intently, and Ian wished she’d soften her expression. Rose’s hand was trembling in his and he could feel her growing more tense with every passing second. Just when he was about to speak to Christine, tell her to hurry the fuck up, her face cleared and she flipped the switch to send an image to the screen on the wall in front of them. 

Before their eyes was a perfectly healthy twenty-week fetus. The baby was curled into a little ball, just as it should be, and he spotted absolutely no anatomical differences at first glance. As they watched, the baby’s hand went to its mouth and it began to suck its thumb.

Rose laughed a little, squeezing his hand tight. He returned the pressure, as caught up in the moment as she was. 

"Look, Ian. Look at the baby."

"I see, sweetheart." 

He didn’t acknowledge the glance from Christine.

"He’s sucking his thumb."

"You mean she," he answered automatically, grinning.

"Get ready to lose, Ian," Rose giggled.

Christine broke in without looking at them. "You two have a bet?"

"Yep," Rose answered, nodding. "Ian thinks it’s a girl, but I think it’s a boy."

"What are the stakes?"

"We just changed them. Loser buys lunch," Rose answered with a smile, and Ian didn’t miss the look Christine shot him. He also didn’t give a shred of a fuck.

Christine hummed, moving the wand this way and that. Ian paid close attention to the screen, trying to straddle the line between clinician and support person.

"There’s the heart, Rose, see it fluttering?"

"Yeah," she answered, sounding almost breathless. "It’s so fast."

"Perfectly normal," he assured her, then pointed at the screen. "And there’s the liver."

"Liver is a little enlarged," Christine remarked in an offhand manner. 

Rose squeezed his hand at once, and her voice had an edge of panic. "Is that bad?"

"No," Ian said at the same moment Christine did. He shut up and let her elaborate, "It’s not enlarged by much, and it’s almost always benign or user error on the part of the sonographer. When you take into account the parentage of this baby…" she cut her eyes at Ian again, and he glared at her. "...Everything looks remarkably normal."

"Really?" Rose said, sounding excited, and Ian squeezed her hand, forgetting all about Christine. Rose turned to him and her face was radiant. He’d never seen her look more beautiful than she looked right then. 

"Really really," Christine said with a smile. "Looks like the baby may be in position to see the sex. I’m assuming you want to?"

"Yes!" Rose practically shouted, then she looked over at him and they laughed a little.

Christine moved the wand over to the side of Rose’s belly. Ian saw a split second before Christine announced, "It’s a… girl! A perfectly healthy baby girl."

Ian and Rose both laughed with joy and she twisted her body, reaching over to hug him excitedly. He stood and hugged her back, fighting to keep from kissing her temple in a burst of sheer joy, then gave up and kissed her anyway... then again, lingering a bit. They pulled back from each other after a moment and paused, their faces only inches apart. Rose’s eyes were sparkling and her lips were curled into a smile. Ian wanted to close the gap and press his lips to hers, but at the last second he regained his sense and lowered himself back into his seat. He didn’t let go of her hand, though.

Christine was watching them with an odd look on her face. "Would you like to do the 4D scan?"

"Absolutely," Rose said, and Ian agreed. A couple of buttons were pushed, and the screen changed to a sepia image of a baby sucking her thumb. 

"Ian," Rose breathed. "Look."

"I see her," he answered in a tone just as awed, eyes still glued to the image of the baby girl. Ian had seen the images from countless ultrasounds, had performed more than a few himself. But somehow his prior involvement hadn’t felt nearly the same as what he was feeling now. He didn’t bother wondering what the difference was - he already knew.

The baby stirred a little, perhaps making herself more comfortable, and he felt the back of his eyes prickle. "She’s beautiful," he whispered.

Rose squeezed his hand again then sniffled, and Ian tore his eyes away from the baby girl on the screen to look at Rose. There was a single tear running down her cheek, and he reached up to brush it away. 

"She’s perfect, sweetheart. Absolutely perfect." And she was. There was nothing abnormal about her -- ten fingers, ten toes, all her organs in the right place and a healthy umbilical cord. "She’s got a beautiful little face," he remarked, feeling awestruck, turning back to look at the baby.

"Yeah?" 

Ian looked back to see Rose looking over at him, her eyes wet and shining. He was sure that he could get lost in them and never want to be found.

"Yeah."

They’d both forgotten Christine was there until she cleared her throat and they jumped. "Alright, Ms. Tyler, that’s all for today," she said, flipping the switch to turn the image on the wall off and beginning to wipe away the jelly on Rose’s abdomen. 

"Can I have a picture?" Rose asked, sounding uncertain. 

"Of course you can," Christine smiled. "I took loads."

She handed a long strip of images to Rose, who looked at all of them with a bright, glowing smile. Ian was smiling just as big, leaning closer to her so that he could see the printouts - as if they would show something new.

"Well," Rose said, still beaming. "I believe I owe you a lunch."

He chuckled and offered his hand to steady her as she got off of the table and onto her feet. Before her jumper could cover her bump, in a fit of daring, he put his hand on her belly. He couldn’t help it. He _had_ to touch her. 

But Rose, as always, was full of surprises. She covered his hand with hers and smiled up at him. "She’s not moving right now, I’m afraid."

"Oh well," he said, smiling, unable to help it. "I can always try again later."

"Yeah," she nodded, her tongue going between her teeth. "You should."

Christine cleared her throat loudly, breaking the moment, and he and Rose fairly jumped apart. Rose’s face flamed, even in the dim light, and Ian didn’t meet Christine’s eye. 

"You’re free to go, Rose. See you in two weeks."

"Thank you, Dr. Ross."

"Yes, thank you, Christine," Ian fairly mumbled. He put his hand on Rose’s back and led her from the room, deciding against taking her hand when they got into the corridor. But that left his hands at a loss and, not sure what to do with them, he shoved them in his pockets. 

"I need to lock up my office and let Clara know I’m going to lunch," he told her.

Rose nodded without looking up, still engrossed in the pictures of her daughter. "That’s fine. Do you have scissors?"

"Yeah."

"Can I use them?"

"Absolutely."

Ian held open the door to his office and Rose stepped inside with him. He walked around his desk and opened the drawer to retrieve the scissors, but when he turned around to hand them to her Rose wasn’t looking at him. Her gaze was trained on the photograph on his desk, the one he’d taken of the two of them on New Year’s Eve. It hadn’t even been two weeks since that night, but enough time had passed that he no longer felt as though he needed to hide it every time someone came to his door.

But Rose wasn’t just anyone, and he didn’t know how she’d feel about him having a photograph of the two of them together on his desk. Especially with the way he was looking at her in said photograph. 

Several seconds had passed, but she still hadn’t said anything and he chanced a look at her face. She looked surprised and a little red in the cheeks, but not displeased. He handed her the scissors with a "Here you go," as if nothing unusual had happened, and she took them, still unable to meet his eyes.

She cut off one of the pictures and held it out to him, "Here. For your fridge at home."

He looked down at the sonogram - a 4D picture of the baby sucking her thumb - and couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. 

"Actually,” he replied with forced casualness, a probing suggestion springing to his lips, “I think I’ll put this on my desk. Maybe I’ll pick up a frame while we’re at lunch."

"In that case…" Rose cut another printout off. "For your fridge."

"Thank you, sweetheart."

"You’re welcome. Now, let’s go. I owe you a lunch."

His heart soaring, he took her hand. "Yes, ma’am."

~*~O~*~

They were gone a little longer than Ian intended; there had been a line at the gift shop where they bought the frame. Henry had been waiting for Rose when they got back, and Ian had stayed on the pavement by the building until the car was out of sight, raising his hand in a farewell that he wasn’t sure was seen.

Frame in hand, he nodded a greeting to the nurses and other staff he passed, until he got to the back of the building where his office was. He let Clara know he was back then took a seat behind his desk, opening up the frame and putting the sonogram inside. He sat it on his desk in a prominent place - right next to the photo of him and Rose. 

It was funny, Ian thought. Nearly every other 4D scan he’d ever seen or done had featured a baby that looked like it was the fucking offspring of Voldemort or some shit, with skin like lumpy wax. But this baby...he smiled to himself while he looked at her. This little girl was beautiful. She was perfect. 

Damn if he didn’t love her already.

He was snapped out of his reverie when his office door slammed shut. He looked up, startled, and found Christine there, looking angry.

"Can I fucking help you?"

"I certainly hope so. I’m through playing along. What the hell is going on and why aren’t you telling anyone it’s your baby?"

"Because it’s not my baby."

"Bullshit!" Ian’s eyes widened at the uncharacteristic outburst. "‘Alien’ my arse. There’s nothing remotely alien about that baby. And the two of you this morning, you looked like every other couple that’s ever been in that radiography room. So why are you lying? Is it because of Rose’s father? I know you two are close. I can’t imagine how awkward that would be."

"No," he said through gritted teeth, "it’s not because of Pete. It’s because _it’s not my baby_."

Christine snorted. "Right. ‘The Doctor’. The way I see it, that’s not a proper name, that’s a title - _your_ title. Which is cute, by the way, naming him after yourself like that. What I don’t understand is why the elaborate deception. If you needed to hide why not invent a _human_ instead? Simple lies are always better."

"I’m going to say it one more fucking time --"

"Save your breath," she snapped. Then she huffed. "My God, you’re stubborn. Look, lie to the paparazzi, lie to Pete Tyler if you have to - and I have no idea how you managed to convince him of this - but _don’t_ lie to me. I can’t treat her properly if you don’t tell me the truth. If nothing else, think about that. I know Rose’s health and well-being are important to you. I would hope your daughter’s are, too."

He closed his eyes and tried to push away the pain in his chest. When he opened them again they slid automatically to the small picture frame on his desk before he looked back at Christine with a steady, steely gaze.

"The story Pete told you is the fucking truth. I have nothing further to say on the subject."


	27. Chapter 27

17 January 2012  
Week Twenty-One

Rose pulled out a barstool at the kitchen’s island and perched herself on it. Ian had been invited to dinner and she hadn’t seen him yet, but she’d heard him laughing in the billiards room with Pete when she went to meet her mother in the kitchen. Jackie was bustling around, having dismissed the cook for the evening, and Rose didn’t know what her mother was making but it smelled amazing. 

She was too hungry to wait, though, so she plucked an apple from the fruit bowl on the kitchen island and bit into it. Jackie heard Rose crunching and turned around with a furrowed brow.

“What?” Rose asked around a mouthful of fruit. “I’m hungry.”

Her mother just rolled her eyes and turned back to whatever she’d been stirring in the pot on the cooker. Rose grinned at the familiar gesture. 

“Ian’s here for dinner,” her mother said, just a little too nonchalant. 

Rose chose not to take the bait. “I know. I heard him with Pete in the billiards room. He’s probably coming to mine after dinner, though. He’s got this new show he wants me to watch with him. Something or another on Netflix.”

“Oh, _another_ show to watch together?”

“Don’t start, Mum,” she complained with a sigh and a roll of her eyes.

“I’m not starting anything,” Jackie protested, turning around to drain the noodles in the island’s sink. 

“You are,” Rose accused. “I know you. You’re going to worry this like a dog with a bone.”

She was right. "The Doctor would approve of Ian, you know. I’m sure of it."

That wasn’t a thought Rose wanted to entertain - couldn’t entertain. Instead, she laughed at it. "There’s nothing for him to approve or disapprove _of_ , Mum. Ian and I are not in a relationship. We’re friends, that’s all.”

“He goes to all of your doctor’s appointments.”

“That’s right, because he’s my _friend_.”

Jackie was undeterred. “He picks you up from your work nearly every day and you two end up spending nearly every evening together.”

“It is not ‘nearly every evening’!” Rose squawked, mentally doing a double check to see if her mum was right. He _was_ at her cottage at least three or four evenings a week so the two of them could spend time together. But it wasn’t _every evening_...

“And then there’s him spending the night a couple times a week.”

Rose flushed. There was no way to protest that one, he _was_ spending the night around twice a week or so. She wasn’t the least bit sorry about it, either.

“You’re making too much of this, Mum.”

“I’m not making anything of it,” Jackie shrugged. “Just pointing out that the two of you seem to be very _close_.”

“We are. Honestly, other than you, Ian is probably the person I’m closest with on this entire planet.”

Jackie whirled around with a raised eyebrow. “Closer than Mickey?”

“Oh, yeah,” Rose said without even thinking around another, casual bite of apple. “I’m closer to Ian than Mickey. Definitely.” She swallowed, thoughtful, then said, “But we’re still just friends.”

“How can you say that?”

“Because it’s true. We’re friends and that’s all, no matter what _you_ want us to be."

Jackie sat down the pot of noodles with rather more force than necessary and pointed her pink-painted finger at her daughter. "Rose Marion Tyler, I am your _mother_. I know you don’t understand this yet, but one day you will: mothers _know_ their children. You didn’t sneak nearly as much by me as you thought you did when you were younger, and you’re not pulling the wool over my eyes now. Whether you’ll admit it or not, there’s something there."

"Mum --"

"You don’t have to tell me the truth, but you should tell Ian. He’s a good man. And he’s been good for you." She patted Rose’s shoulder. "Just think about it, sweetheart."

Ian _had_ been good for her, she knew. He’d been stable and steady and her greatest source of comfort over the last few months. But more than friends? Did she even want that with him?

She thought of the evenings she spent curled on the couch with him. Closing her eyes for just a second when her mum turned around, she was able to perfectly recall the feeling of his arms around her, making her feel warm and content, her hand resting safely in his. Nothing would hurt her when she was with him, nothing would even come close - Ian would never allow such a thing. 

The smell of her mum’s pasta sauce faded away and Rose smelled Ian’s aftershave instead, the musky-spicy scent filling her nose and making her feel even more at ease. His chambray shirt slid against her cheek and she felt his shoulder beneath the fabric, lean but strong. She leaned forward just a little, taking in the way his aftershave smelled stronger closer to his collar, until her nose and lips were touching the soft skin of his neck and slowly, so slowly sliding up towards his jaw - where she laid a light kiss.

Ian ducked his head to catch her lips and Rose felt herself melt. The slide of his lips against hers matched the touch of his hands - soft but strong - and she leaned into the kiss, wanting more. She’d kissed him other times, of course, by the lake and then at New Year’s, but there was something different to this, some bubbling heat that had been missing before. Rose parted her lips for him and sighed when he captured her bottom lip between his, nibbling slightly. One of his long-fingered hands came up to cradle the side of her head, supporting her and holding her still, just as he always did. The other massaged her waist, sliding upwards slowly as the kiss deepened until his thumb was tracing the underside of her --

"Finally got there, did you?" Jackie teased. 

Rose blinked back into reality, the scent and taste of Ian fading quickly as the sights and sounds of her mum’s kitchen came back into focus. What the hell? Her mind had never wandered in _that_ direction before! And it was going to be incredibly difficult to keep claiming to her mother that she and Ian were only platonic when her heart rate was up and she felt jittery because she’d just been daydreaming of his hand on her breast while he kissed her.

She wasn’t sure what the hell had just happened, but she had to admit - she damn well liked it. 

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," she denied, doing her best to seem unaffected.

"He’s mad about you, Rose."

She didn’t answer, but she thought of the photo in his office. It had been a jolt when she first saw it, but then it had warmed her, made her feel ...special. Precious. Warm. But that fit, didn’t it? That was the way he made her feel all the time. 

"And you’re --”

"I’m pregnant, Mum. That’s what I am." 

"I’m quite aware. What difference does that make?"

" _What difference does it make?_ Be serious!"

"What?"

"Think about it. Even if I _was_ in love with Ian - which I’m not - it would never work.”

“I don’t see why not. Ian is a good bloke with a good job. He’s completely mad about you and treats you wonderfully. He’s older than you, which might cause a spot of bother with the tabloids, but he’s got nothing on the Doctor.”

“I don’t care how old he is,” Rose answered honestly.

“If that’s not the issue then what is?”

“How could I be with Ian when I'm pregnant with another man’s baby?"

Jackie snorted. "I don't think he’s all that bothered by it, to be honest.”

“What sort of man wouldn’t be bothered by that?” Rose pondered.

“The best sort of man,” her mother answered easily, tossing a significant look over her shoulder before she went back to her preparations.

Rose didn’t acknowledge that aloud, although she felt sure that her mum was right and Ian was the best sort of man. Hot on the heels of that thought was the realization that, unlike Mickey, Ian would never resent her baby for being the Doctor’s child. It wasn’t until that moment that she began to wonder what kind of father he’d be. 

“Mickey certainly would’ve been bothered by it,” she told her mother, shaking those thoughts from her mind so she could concentrate on the conversation she was having. “So would every man I’ve ever known.”

“Something tells me that Ian Docherty is not like any other man you’ve ever known, love.”

~*~O~*~

When Pete left the lounge after dinner to take a call and Rose excused herself to go to the loo, Jackie popped up out of her chair like her arse was on springs. The last thing Ian expected was for her to make her way over to _him_ , but then he remembered that she’d missed Rose’s twenty week scan because of him and braced himself for impact.

“How are you, love?”

He blinked owlishly at her for a second before responding. “I’m fine, Jackie. Did you need something?”

“I just wanted to check on you, see if there was anything _you_ needed.”

_Rose to suddenly decide that she was happy_ here _with him instead of spending her days searching for a way back to the other universe and the fucking_ Doctor.

“No,” he smiled tightly. “I’m just fucking peachy.” 

“How are things with Rose?”

“Great.” 

And they were, for the most part. He looked forward to the evenings he spent with her - and he was around her in some way more often than not. She seemed to have no qualms about him picking her up from the community center after work, and joining her for dinner afterwards had happened naturally. He still played pool with Pete on Tuesdays, and if tonight’s invitation was any indication, he suspected dinner with her parents could become part of that as well. They watched The Yard together on Thursday nights. He was also spending the night occasionally, whenever she invited. It was only happening a couple nights a week: unlike the first time, there wasn’t any reason and no real discussion, just whenever the whim took her. He was always grateful, though; he’d never had _problems_ sleeping, exactly, but he certainly slept much more soundly when she was lying beside him. 

In fact, if it weren’t for the lingering spectre of the alien she was in love with, he could almost convince himself that things were just short of perfect, but heading in that direction. 

“Keep being patient with her, love.”

Ian had no intention of doing otherwise. He hesitated for a moment, a question on his lips, but then decided that forewarned was forearmed. And maybe knowing would help him remember to put some distance between himself and Rose so that it might hurt a little less - as fucking unlikely as that was - when the unknown expiration date on the horizon finally arrived. “Any word on the dimension whatsits? She hasn’t mentioned them in a while.”

“The dimension -- Rose didn’t tell you?”

His stomach threatened to let dinner revisit him. This was it, without warning, the moment he’d been fucking dreading for months had arrived, and he was going to have to hear the news from _Jackie_. Rose was going back to the other universe.

He swallowed back bile and focused on a point just over Jackie’s right ear. He couldn’t look at her when she spoke the words or the pity he’d see in her expression would be enough to break him.

“When is she leaving?”

“Leaving? Oh, you poor -- she’s not leaving. She asked Pete to shut down the project weeks ago.”

She said something else, something about ‘starting to put down roots,’ but, honestly, Ian didn’t hear another word. His heart was thudding, blood was rushing in his ears, and his knees were weak - had he been standing, he was certain he would have collapsed. Rose was staying. Rose was _staying_.

A glass appeared in his hand and he drank absently, ice cold water shocking the world back into focus. Jackie was staring down at him with a mix of understanding and concern.

“Really?” he rasped, and she nodded, tears welling in her eyes as she offered him a small smile.

“Yeah, love.”

_She was staying._

A noise from the hallway caught their attention and Jackie touched his arm lightly before going back to her chair. Ian stood. He couldn’t be here when Rose returned, she would take one look at him and know something had happened. He stepped into the hallway, glad to see that it was not Rose they’d heard but Pete returning from his phone call. Nodding, he ducked his head and made his way to one of the loos farther away from the lounge so he’d be less likely to run into her.

Once the door was safely closed behind him, he looked at himself in the mirror. Aside from a spot of pink high on his cheeks, there was no outward sign of the emotional rollercoaster he’d just been on. Gripping the edge of the sink with both hands, he leaned closer to the mirror and whispered the words, “Rose is staying. Rose is staying in _this_ universe.”

Silently, he added the closest thing to a prayer he’d said in years, _with me._ He didn’t allow himself to think about the possibility that the Doctor would find a way through from the other side, simply refused to let himself consider it. Then, with one more deep breath, he left the loo and returned to the lounge.

Rose looked up from her place on the couch and smiled, and a ray of hope burst through him like a solar flare. “Ready to go?”

He nodded and offered his hand to help her stand, threading their fingers together as soon as he could. They said their goodbyes to Pete and Jackie and walked together to the coatroom at the back of the house. It was already getting late, but they’d gotten into the habit of watching telly together for a while in the evenings. Tonight was going to be one of the nights he stayed with her, he believed. She hadn’t mentioned it, but then she never did until it came time for him to leave. To be honest, it would be hard to make him leave right now, after his talk with Jackie. He needed to be near her. 

The two walked leisurely across the back garden to Rose’s cottage. He swung their joined hands a little, content in the moment. They really should walk faster, it was fucking cold outside, but he was relishing the contact.

_She was staying._

"I think I like ‘Dorothy’,” she said, and the smile he could hear in her voice kept him from jerking his hand away and demanding she rethink such a name right that instant.

Instead, he played along. “Dorothy isn’t Scottish, it’s just horrid.”

“Nah, I’ve moved on from Scottish names for the most part. Although I’m thinking very seriously about Agnes.”

He gave her the stricken look she was expecting, whether she could see it or not in the low light. "You don’t mean that."

"It’s a perfectly lovely name, Ian."

"No. No fucking way."

She giggled beside him and he smiled. Ian squeezed her hand and she leaned into him as they walked, laying her head on his shoulder. 

Too soon, they were at the door to her cottage. Rose unlocked the door and the two of them stepped inside, pulling their coats off and hanging them up. 

"Do you want a drink?" Rose offered. 

"No, thanks." 

She went into the kitchen to fix herself a drink while Ian went to the lounge to turn on the telly and get Netflix fired up, scrolling until he found the documentary series he thought she might like. He queued it up, then had a seat on the sofa just as Rose came into the room with two drinks. 

He eyed the second glass. “Are you expecting company?”

“No,” she remarked, with her tongue between her teeth. “I just know you well enough. You’ll be parched ten minutes in, then miss part of the show because you went to get a drink. So I’m helping out.”

Ian chuckled a little. More than likely, that’s precisely what would have happened. He loved that she knew him so well. Hell, he loved everything about her.

And she was _staying_.

Rose sat down next to him, flush with his side, and laid her head on his shoulder in the position she’d gotten used to taking over the last few weeks. He turned his head to kiss the top of hers, then asked, “Are you ready to start, sweetheart?” 

“I’m ready,” she said, and he pressed the button to start the program. The two of them sat in silence, watching the footage of deep sea creatures, when suddenly Rose grunted. Ian sat up and turned to her, alarmed.

“Sweetheart? What is it?”

“She’s moving,” Rose said. “From the feel of things, she’s practicing jumping.”

Ian looked down at her rounded belly and, before he could stop himself, he laid his hand on it. She took his hand and gently moved it a few inches. 

“She’s there,” Rose whispered, as if she were afraid to spook the baby.

Seconds passed with no activity, and Ian crouched low, putting his mouth near her belly. 

“Hello there, Little Face. You doing alright in there? Kick once for yes, twice for no.”

Rose laughed, but Ian’s eyes widened when he felt a single nudge from inside Rose’s belly. The baby had moved.

He wasn’t sure if he felt like whooping to the heavens or crying with joy. This little miracle, this baby girl that he loved so much, was alive and kicking. He'd felt countless babies move over the course of a twenty-year career, but he didn't love any of them. This baby...this baby was precious. 

Ian stroked Rose’s belly, awestruck and humbled, murmuring sweet nothings to it. The baby kicked twice more, and Ian felt his happiness grow each time. 

_She was staying._

When she stopped moving, he sat back up, smiling at a beaming Rose, wanting desperately to kiss her. Good sense won out, though, and he refrained. 

“Have a good chat with Cameron?” she asked.

Ian cringed. “Ugh. Don’t call this poor baby Cameron.”

"You said you liked that name!”

“I never fucking did!” 

“You _did_! I promise! It was when we saw that bloke in the restaurant a month or so ago. I said I liked it and you agreed.”

"No, you said you liked it and I didn’t argue with you."

She looked torn between amusement and being put out. “And now?”

“Bottom of the fucking list - if it even stays on it at all.” Rose grinned and his eyebrow went up. “What?”

"Are you still going to swear so much when the baby gets here?"

The air seemed to shift around him, taking on a much weightier feel. Hoping against logic, he asked, "Am I still going to be around when the baby gets here?"

She looked at him like he was being ridiculous. "I certainly hope so!"

The little flame of hope that dwelled in his chest flared a bit, but he ordered himself not to get stupid. She saw him as a friend - a surrogate uncle for her daughter. Not the lover, the support, the partner he wanted to be.

"But if her first word is ‘fuck’ I'm blaming you."

_She was staying_.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caedmon and RishiDiams would like to take this opportunity to wish you Americans a very Happy Thanksgiving - and if today isn't your Thanksgiving celebration, please enjoy the bonus material anyway. :) <3 Gobble, gobble!

17 January, 2012 (continued)

Ian had stayed over several times by now and the two of them had fallen into something of a routine together. It wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable, sharing her bed with him. She certainly slept better when he laid beside her at night, his weight dipping the bed, his breath blowing her hair gently. Dreams seemed to be more pleasant, with a lower risk of the nightmares that left her shaking and gasping for breath when she woke up. When Ian was beside her, all she had to do if she woke up and felt afraid was roll towards him and slip her hand into his. He would curl his long fingers around hers reassuringly, earning a smile from her while he muttered something comforting in his sleep. Rose would drift back off, feeling safe and protected, and refuse to let herself dig deeper and analyze her response to him.

Now, though, after the conversation she’d had with her mother before dinner tonight - and the rather shocking daydream she’d had right in the middle of said conversation - she was looking at things in a slightly different light. She was looking at _Ian_ in a different light. A _deeply attracted_ light.

Stretching herself out on the bed, she smiled contentedly and pulled the covers over her legs. Ian was just coming out of the loo and she raked her gaze up and down his body surreptitiously. The t-shirt he wore to sleep in was somewhat fitted, outlining his slim torso, and a v-neck revealed a triangle of pale skin that Rose did her best not to contemplate too much. Her fingers twitched, wanting to touch it. She bit her lip, wanting to kiss it. He’d likely welcome her touch, she thought, but ...she shook her head to clear it. They weren’t like that. What was she thinking?

He gave her that lopsided grin that was almost a smirk and she felt herself tremble a little inside, even while she hoped desperately that she hadn’t spoken aloud. 

“Has she been moving around?”

It took Rose a second to realize what he was talking about. “Hm? Oh! Beatrice, you mean.” She reveled in the playful scowl he gave her. “She’s fairly quiet at the moment. Must be sleeping.”

“Must be,” he agreed, then reached an arm into the en suite to shut off the light and headed to his side of the bed. Rose settled herself down under the covers while he positioned himself and laid down. She was terribly tempted to roll over and take his hand, to snuggle into him, to hold him close. She wanted him close. 

As if he could read her thoughts, Ian reached across the width of bed that separated them and took her hand. She didn’t resist, she simply spread her fingers, letting his slip between. The room was dark and Rose was grateful, otherwise Ian may have seen her surely-glowing face.

The two laid silently, side by side. Rose let her mind wander and, unbidden, her mother’s words about the Doctor approving of Ian came back to her. She’d refused to consider the concept earlier but now, in the silence of her room with Ian breathing softly beside her, she realized that it didn’t require much consideration. It was true. The Doctor loved her and he’d acted in her best interests in every situation - with one glaring exception. The Time Lord would be able to recognize the same qualities in Ian and appreciate them. The Doctor wasn’t here and couldn’t be here and - as jealous a soul as he’d always been, she knew he’d be pleased that she was with someone who was quite a lot like him. 

Ian stirred beside her every so often as his breathing slowed and regulated. She felt warm, safe, and protected, and sleep started to slip up on her…

The mobile rang shrilly on Ian’s bedside table, startling both of them. Rose was jostled when he sat up, swearing fluently, fumbling for his mobile.

“Docherty,” he barked into the mouthpiece when he found it. Rose sat up beside him, flicking on the lamp. She squinted against the sudden light and turned to look at Ian. He held the mobile to one ear, listening and dragging his fingers through his hair absently. She watched him as her eyes adjusted. He sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Yeah. Yeah. Alright. I’m on the way.” 

Rose felt her shoulders sag a bit at that, but she tried to swallow the disappointment she felt. When he ended the call, she tried to inject as much cheer as possible into her voice. “Gotta go to work?”

Ian sighed. “Yeah, one of Christine’s patients is back in the fucking ER. She’s been fucking hysterical about every stage of her pregnancy. Constantly convinced something is wrong.”

“I can relate to that,” Rose muttered, and Ian’s expression softened. He hesitated for only a second before he laid his hand over her belly, his eyes warm. She covered his hand with her own. 

“There’s nothing for you to worry about, sweetheart. This little girl is perfectly healthy, and I’m going to make damn sure she stays that way.”

She smiled a little. “You promise?”

“I fucking swear,” he answered with his own little smile. The moment lingered, stretched out, and Rose found herself looking at his lips. His eyes darted down to her lips in return and she wondered wildly if he was going to kiss her, but he moved to get up and Rose blinked rapidly, the spell broken. “But for now,” he said, “I have a duty of care to my patients, and someone else's baby needs me."

He got out of bed, leaving Rose sitting on her side a little dazed. She watched him gather up his clothes and go into the loo to change. Rose stood up, pulling on her dressing gown, planning to walk him to the door. He caught sight of her when he came out of the loo and smiled. 

“You don’t need to see me off, sweetheart. It’s late. You should go back to bed.”

“I don’t mind,” she insisted. “Really.”

The corner of Ian’s lips quirked up, and he walked over to where she stood by the bedroom door to take her hand. They started down the corridor towards the side door. 

“Will you come back here?” Rose asked impulsively, feeling shy as soon as the words left her mouth. 

“Back here?”

“When you get your patient sorted. Will you come back here?”

He gave her a searching look. “It’s going to be late, sweetheart. Middle of the night. I don’t want to disturb you.”

“You won’t disturb me.”

“I’ll wake you up, Rose.”

“Really. I don’t mind.”

“Sweetheart --”

“I mean, you don’t have to,” she backtracked, feeling terribly self-conscious. After all, it sounded like he didn’t _want_ to come back. “It’s up to you, of course. I just wanted to leave the option open for you.”

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “I appreciate it.”

The moment felt stilted and she spoke to fill it, gesturing to the door. “You know how to get in? The code? I mean, if you do decide --”

“Three-five-oh-eight.” 

“Right,” she said, ducking her head a little, feeling herself blush. She wasn’t sure exactly what to say - she felt strange and awkward - but Ian stepped forward and pulled her into his arms. She went gladly, closing her eyes when her arms went around his waist, taking in the scent of him and the feeling of his long, lean body pressed tightly against hers. 

“Go sleep,” he murmured into her hair. “If I get done soon enough, I’ll come back.”

Rose felt herself relax a bit. “Okay.”

“Either way, I’ll see you Thursday evening, yes?”

She leaned back a little and nodded, smiling up at him. “Yes, of course. It’s a date.”

Something flickered in his eyes for just a moment, then it was gone. 

“I’ll see you, sweetheart,” he said in a low, rumbling voice, stepping away reluctantly. She let him go just as reluctantly, giving him a smile she certainly didn’t feel, then stood by the door until the sound of his tires crunching on the gravel had faded away and his headlights no longer lit the window. More than a little down, she dragged herself back to bed. 

With no one there to judge her, Rose rolled to her side and pulled his pillow over to herself, burying her face in it to smell the lingering remains of him. She suddenly remembered the moment that she’d nearly told Mickey she’d let him stay the night if he needed, just as she’d let Ian. But she had stopped herself, worried he’d read too much into it. 

Rose took a deep breath of Ian’s wonderful scent and cuddled the pillow even closer. She didn’t mind if Ian read too much into her letting him spend the night or not. In fact, she rather hoped he did.

She awoke hours later to the sound of Ian’s alarm, and she smiled at the sight of him rolling away from her to turn it off.

~*~O~*~

20 January 2012

Ian hated charting. It was a necessary evil, of course, but an evil nonetheless. Most charting was electronic now, and that expedited things quite a bit, but there was still busywork that occupied chunks of his day - and Ian _really_ hated giving away chunks of his time. 

He especially hated doing so now that he was spending most of his free time with Rose. As far as he was concerned, any moment not spent with her was a moment wasted. 

Speaking of… He looked at the clock in the corner of the computer screen. He was off in a couple of hours, and he wondered if he he should text Rose, try to catch her during a break between her classes. They didn’t have any plans for that evening...but they could always _make_ some. 

Debating for just a moment, he pulled out his mobile and tapped out a message. 

~Ian: _How are you and Rosebud today?_

He sat the mobile down and went back to the charts on the screen of his laptop. Two more had been finished and filed when his mobile rang. 

“Hello?”

Rose’s laughter answered him and he smiled at the sound, feeling himself relax just a bit. 

“You alright?” he asked, grinning.

“ _Rosebud_?” she laughed. 

“Why not? A Rosebud is a little Rose, right? Made sense to me. Almost like Rose, Jr.”

“You’re daft.”

“I never claimed otherwise,” he volleyed back, terribly pleased with himself. She giggled and he put her on speaker, setting the mobile down beside him, going back to his charts, determined to multitask. “How are the two of you?”

“Fine,” Rose said, and he could still hear the smile in her voice. “She’s been wiggly today.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Not sure what I did different, but whatever it is woke her up.”

“There’s no telling,” Ian said, clicking boxes on his computer. “Little Daffodil may just be feeling a bit more active today, you never know.”

“ _Daffodil_?”

He smirked at the screen. “You like?”

“No daughter of mine will be named Daffodil.”

“Awh, you’re no fun. How about Posey instead?”

Rose laughed. “You’re impossible, Ian Docherty.”

“You’re not the first person to tell me that, sweetheart.”

“I believe that,” she chuckled. "Have you got plans tonight?”

His heart sped up a little bit. “Not at the moment. You want to do something?”

“Sure!” She sounded happy, even excited by the prospect, and it melted him. 

"Out or in?"

"Let's go out,” she said. “I've got a bit of cabin fever."

"Sounds good to me. Where to?"

"Dunno. Surprise me."

He raised an eyebrow. "You don't have some mad craving?"

"Nope! I'm craving free."

Ian snorted. "There's a first time for fucking everything."

"Oi!"

He chuckled a little. "Pick you up at half six?"

"Just come by whenever you get off work."

"Will do, sweetheart."

“Hi, Rose!” called a cheerful, feminine voice from behind him and Ian whirled around in his chair to see Clara standing just inside the doorway, leaning against the wall and smirking.

“Who is that?” Rose asked.

“It’s Clara,” Ian answered, his mood more than a little diminished. 

“Oh! Hi, Clara!”

Ian spoke up before Clara could. “I’ll be at the center by around five-fifteen.”

“Okay,” Rose said brightly. “I’ll be ready to go.”

She wouldn’t, and they both knew it. Every day he’d picked her up from the center had resulted in him waiting around a bit while the children flocked around her so Rose could give each of them a bit of her attention. But he didn’t mind in the least - he loved seeing her like that. “Sounds good. See you then.”

“Bye,” she said.

“Bye!” Clara called out just as Ian was hitting the red button on his mobile to end the call. He whirled around and glared at his head nurse. 

“What the fuck, Clara?!”

“Just saying hi,” she shrugged with false innocence. 

“Leave her alone.”

“Why? She’s new in town, could use friends. Everyone needs friends.”

That was actually something Ian had worried about on more than one occasion. Ordinarily, if he were really just a platonic friend and that was all he intended, he’d be happy for Clara to make friends with Rose. The two were near in age, and he suspected they’d get along well. 

But the potential for them getting along well was exactly the problem, since he was desperate to be more than ‘Uncle Ian’. He was terribly fond of Clara, couldn’t imagine working with another head nurse after he’d worked with her, but she had a tendency towards meddling. It had only gotten worse for him when he'd introduced her to Bill Potts, his assistant director at the clinic. Thinking he was doing something nice for his friends, he’d introduced them, only to have them gang up on him almost immediately after they’d started dating. Ian suspected they’d put their meddling to use if Clara were to take up with Rose. 

“She has friends,” he snapped. Rose couldn’t help but make friends everywhere she went and she and Osgood seemed to be getting along nicely.

“Besides you.”

He ignored her. “Did you need something?”

“No, I just heard you talking, thought I’d come in and see who you were talking to.”

“That was none of your fucking business.”

“You put her on speakerphone, Doctor. It becomes my business if I can hear it just walking by your office in the corridor.”

_Note to self: don’t put Rose on speakerphone with the office door open._

“How much did you hear?” he demanded, willing his pulse and respirations to slow down.

“Enough to know that you were practically kissing your girlfriend through the mobile for everyone to hear.”

“We weren’t -- fuck me running. How many fucking times do I have to tell you she’s not my fucking girlfriend?”

"She’s not, huh?" Clara asked, pointedly eyeing the picture frames on his desk.

Ian resisted adjusting them out of Clara’s view with great effort. “No, she’s fucking not.”

“Wonder if she knows that.”

He blinked, brought up short. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Rose. I wonder if she knows she’s not your girlfriend. She certainly _acts_ like a girlfriend would.”

“We’re _friends_ , Clara. Even _close_ friends. But there’s nothing more. Think I’d fucking know, don’t you?”

She shrugged. “Maybe not.”

“I’m sure I would. Believe it or not, I’m not a fucking idiot.”

“You are, at least a little. You don’t recognize that she’s not as immune to you as she presents herself to be.”

Ian was brought up short again, staring at Clara, unsure what to say. Could she be serious? Could Rose be affected by him - as much as he was by her?

No. He couldn’t allow himself to think on that. It was dangerous to give himself any hope at all. Hope could only tear him down.

He turned back to the charts he’d been working on before the phone had rung. "Go away, Clara."

"I’m just saying, Bannerman has a picture of _his_ wife and kids on his desk."

With that parting shot, she turned and left the room. Ian looked at the pictures again, contemplating the woman and baby captured in picture frames and just what they meant to him while Clara’s words bounced around in his mind.

~*~O~*~

Rose was giggling, and Ian’s heart was singing. Her happiness brought him joy, and the knowledge that he’d made her laugh never failed to lift his spirits.

“Be serious, Ian.”

“I am serious! ‘Crocus’ is a perfectly lovely name.”

She giggled, swatting at him, and he feigned injury even as he grinned. Rose’s laughter settled down and he scrambled to think of another flower name if needed. 

“Now, if you’re quite done,” she said with mock sternness. He just let his eyes twinkle at her, and she bit her tongue between her teeth when she bent down to the page of the open book.

“Samantha.”

Ian wrinkled his nose. “No, I don’t think I like that one. Madeline?”

“Hmm,” Rose thought for a second. “I like that. Maddie could be cute.”

“I take it back,” Ian said in a hurry. “You can’t have it if you’re going to fucking shorten it to Maddie.”

Rose threw her head back and laughed. “Why on earth not?”

He had no valid reason. “I just don’t like it shortened.”

She laughed again. “You’re daft, but alright. We’ll put that one to the side for now. How about Jennifer?"

Ian felt like he’d been dropped in a vat of ice water and he stiffened. His voice was sharp when he simply said, "No."

"Why not? I like Jenny as a nickname. Makes me think of a beautiful blonde with big eyes and a great smile. Someone happy, energetic."

She didn’t seem to notice his distress, and he really had no desire to tell her, but he couldn’t bear the idea of this baby being named Jennifer. So he said, "Jennifer - Jenn - was -- I was married once, a long time ago." 

Rose’s eyes were wide - he’d clearly surprised her. "You were?"

"Yes," he nodded, not meeting her gaze and already regretting bringing up the subject. It shouldn’t matter what she named her daughter - except that it _did_ , at least with this. "Almost twenty years ago, now. There were nineteen months of a disappointing marriage. Although, to be fair, I was the one who was a fucking disappointment."

"I don’t believe that," she said with conviction.

"It’s true. I was still a resident and working three or four twelve hour shifts a week, and that doesn’t even begin to cover call or the clinic.”

“The clinic?”

“I thought I had told you…” She shook her head when he trailed off. “I helped start a free clinic nearly twenty years ago in one of the poorer sections of town. Lots of women from that area weren’t getting any prenatal care and were having low-birthweight babies - or worse. So I advocated for and helped start a free clinic.”

Rose looked impressed. “Wow. That’s amazing.”

He was actually incredibly proud of his work at the clinic, but didn’t want to seem like a braggart. “It’s grown a great deal. Through donations and grants, it now runs three days a week, every week, and one Saturday a month. That’s when I work there, that third Saturday - I have to be there tomorrow, in fact. But I’m behind the scenes a lot more than that.”

“And your wife didn’t like that?” She sounded incredulous. 

“She didn’t like that I was gone so much. Most of my shifts were nights, so I was sleeping during the day. We never saw each other. Jenn fucking hated it. She thought I should be focusing all of my attention and spare time on the hospital, not the clinic. I didn’t listen, and I didn’t see what I was doing to my relationship. She finally gave me an ultimatum - her or my job and the clinic. I’d worked to get to where I was for ten damn years at that point and was actually doing a good thing for the community with the clinic. I wasn’t prepared to give either of them up. So she kicked me out. But if I’m being honest, I didn’t do much to try and stop her from fucking giving me the boot. I wonder now if I ever really loved her the way I should." 

In actuality, he _knew_ he hadn’t. The way he felt about Rose had proven that effectively.

Rose reached across and covered his hand with hers. "I’m sorry."

He tried not to react to the feeling of her skin touching his. "Like I said, it was a long fucking time ago." 

After a moment Rose took her hand back and turned to the next page in the book. "Okay. Not Jennifer."

"Rose, you don’t have to -- I mean, you can name her whatever you want."

"No. If you don’t want Jennifer, I’m not going to put it on the list. Madeline either,” she said, then gave him a little wink before she went back to the book.

He watched her flip through another couple of pages, not paying attention to the names on them even though she gave him plenty of time between to speak up if he saw something he liked. And, for the first time, it occurred to him that she considered him part of this, not just someone to bounce ideas off of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 27 March, 1989
> 
> “Oh come on, bampot. This Judith bird can’t be all _that_ bad.”
> 
> “She is,” Ian complained, re-crossing his ankles on the coffee table. He debated going to the fridge for a beer, but the phone’s cord would only stretch so far. If he did, he’d have to tell Fergus to hold on and set the phone down. Which he wasn’t ruling out, but it could wait. 
> 
> Getting back to the subject at hand, he said, “She’s drop-dead gorgeous and fucking _amazing_ in the sack, but that doesn’t make up for the fact that she’s fucking horrid. What I’ve told you barely scratches the surface.”
> 
> “So break up with her, idiot.”
> 
> “I can’t. She won’t take a fucking hint.”
> 
> “Quit dropping hints and just fucking ditch her!”
> 
> “That’s easy for you to say, you’re a fucking manwhore that’s done this a thousand times.”
> 
> “Which is why you should listen to me.”
> 
> Ian sighed, running his hand through his hair, realizing too late that he’d messed up his earlier work in the bathroom mirror - the long, chestnut curls he’d gotten just right. He cursed out loud, then perked up when he heard a knock at the door. 
> 
> “Gotta go, Fergus.”
> 
> “Time to go dip your wick in the bint?”
> 
> “No, wisearse, Pete’s here.”
> 
> “How is ol’ Ringo?”
> 
> “Not too shitty. Business is good. He’s broken away from his heinous bitch wife for the evening though. We’re going to the pub.”
> 
> “Ah. Well, you two have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”
> 
> Ian snorted. “That leaves the field wide fucking open.” He said goodbye to his cousin, then went to the door to meet his other best friend and the two of them set out on a pub crawl to drink their women woes away. 
> 
> ((story continued in comments))


	29. Chapter 29

21 January, 2012

_She writhed below him and he could feel her nails dragging along his back, intensifying the sensations of his skin sliding against hers. He was loving the feel of her lips, tongue and teeth on his shoulder, but he felt absolutely desperate to taste her._

_“Rose,” he moaned against the soft skin of her throat between worshipful open-mouth kisses. “You’re so beautiful. I love you so much…”_

_“Please, Ian,” she whimpered, wrapping one leg around his waist and changing the angle of her hips. “Please, more.”_

_He’d give her anything she wanted, he was helpless to do otherwise. If she wanted more, he’d give her more - all he had, all he was. “More what, sweetheart?”_

_“Harder. Faster. Please, Ian... please fuck me.”_

_No further encouragement was needed. He pistoned in and out of her - pounded, really - while she shouted below him and begged for more. She came apart around him, tightening on his cock, intensifying his pleasure, and he cried out. He nearly came but kept going, kept slamming into her, taking her, claiming her._

_“Rose,” he groaned while he fucked her. “Rose, please…”_

_She came again, screaming his name, but there was something off about her voice. Something odd. He couldn’t put his finger on it…_

With a jolt, Ian realized a couple of things. 

First, he was lying in Rose’s bed and the alarm was going off. 

Second, he had a knob-on hard enough to cut glass. 

Third - and directly related to the second - if he didn’t come soon, he was surely going to die.

Rose pulled her hand out of his with a little bit of effort - he’d been clutching it tightly - and rolled away from him to turn off the alarm. Ian took advantage of her absence to mentally rage at his erection, willing it away. It didn’t listen.

Rolling onto her back again, Rose sighed and stretched. “Mmm. Morning.”

“Ah, yes. Morning,” Ian said, entirely too wound up for someone still lying in bed mere seconds after the alarm went off. Desperately, he tried to think of what to do. Thank God he was lying on his side, so his traitorous cock wasn’t on full display. It wouldn’t be hidden for long though. Something had to happen. Now.

Thinking fast, he improvised - and started _carefully_ rolling out of bed, doing his best to hide the front of his body from Rose. “I need to get in the shower, there are some ...things I need to do before the clinic opens.”

“But --”

“I’m sorry, I know we usually have tea first, but I really need to go.” He bent down and grabbed something - anything - to change into from his bag, then held it in front of him (he hoped) discreetly while he hurried to the en suite. 

“Are you alright?” Rose asked, sounding concerned, leaning towards him a little bit. 

“I’m fine!” he answered, sounding falsely cheerful in his own ears. “I’ll just be a minute, k?”

“Okay…” She sounded suspicious and he couldn’t blame her. He was acting shady as fuck and he knew it, but there was nothing else to do. 

Once he was in the loo and the door was safely closed behind him, he raised the bundle of clothes away from the front of his groin and glared down at his erection for just a moment. It was insistent and his need to come had not diminished at all, so he dashed to the shower, turned on the water - not paying any attention to the temperature he set it at - then stripped naked and got into the stall. 

The second he closed the shower door behind him he closed his hand around his cock and started stroking quickly, standing in the spray, his eyes closed tight. Water made for a shitty, unrealistic lubricant, and he opened his eyes, looking around the shower for something he could use. 

Bar of soap. That would work if he was careful. 

He soaped up his hand and went back to pumping furiously, letting out a sigh of relief when his hand slid smoothly and more comfortably up and down his length. 

Letting his mind wander - as he always did when he found himself wanking in the shower, which was more often than he liked - he thought of Rose. He knew from what little touching he’d allowed himself to do that her skin was softer than the finest silk, and he imagined himself sliding his hand down her back while she stood in front of him, her face lifted so he could kiss her. Her arms were around his neck, holding him close and, blessedly, pressing her breasts against his bare chest, making him moan into her mouth. His hand cupped her bum and pulled her even closer, trapping his erection between them, and he broke the kiss with a gasp, pulling back a little bit, overwhelmed with sensation. Rose relieved one of her hands of its job of scratching the back of his head and slipped it between them to his cock, wrapping her small hand around it. In his fantasy, he whimpered her name when she started dragging her hand up and down his length, swirling her thumb over the tip. 

_Ian_ , his dreamgirl said. _Ian, I love you…_

With a strangled sound, he erupted, his seed hitting the tiled wall of the shower while he continued to fist himself through his orgasm, falling forward a little and propping himself with his free hand. When the last tingling waves of pleasure started to recede, he let his chin drop to his chest while he caught his breath. 

This had to stop. She saw him as her friend, her support, her confidant, and here he was in her shower, wanking to mental images of her. It was shameful, deplorable, and he really, _really_ needed to get ahold of himself. Nothing could ever come of this. He was destined to be her friend - and that was it. Ian couldn’t let himself read anything into the fact that she was snuggling him closer, asking him over more, requesting that he spend the night. If he were to try to pursue her, she’d most likely run - just like before. And this time, she’d be gone for good. 

Feeling completely desolate, Ian heaved a great sigh and went about washing his body, getting himself ready for the day ahead.

~*~O~*~

One would think it would just be a matter of course to present the ID required to get to the poorer section of town that housed the free clinic. Ian had been stopping at the checkpoint, offering his ID and occasionally having his car glanced through for nearly twenty years. But every time he had to go to the clinic it was the same routine, and he hated it. Unfortunately there was little he could do about the barricades and guards which divided the city. He was already doing everything he could for the people on the other side.

Finally, the guard waved him through and he pulled closer to the mechanical gate, waiting with thinly veiled impatience for it to move out of the way enough for him to drive through it.

Despite what he’d implied to Rose, there was no work waiting for him when he arrived at the clinic. Bill Potts, the assistant director, ran a tight ship. Being that he was the only one there and with nothing else to do, he made a cup of coffee in the lounge (since Rose couldn’t drink it, he tried not to drink it in front of her), then sat down at the computer in his office, pulled up Google and searched _flower names for girls_.

The first page he opened consisted mostly the same kinds of things he’d already been suggesting, but he committed several good ones to memory for use later. As he delved deeper and deeper into the search results, though, the names got progressively more unusual. Chuckling lightly to himself, he made a note of a few of those as well.

However, the smile flitting about his lips fell away at one name in particular: _Alstroemeria Isabella_.

Isabel. His mother’s name. 

He’d always thought it was a pretty name, even as a child, and the temptation to suggest it to Rose was strong. If he had put the child there that grew in her belly, he wouldn’t hesitate to do so. But as desperately as he wanted to be this baby’s father, he couldn’t offer use of his mother’s name to a child that could be taken away from him at any moment. 

Mood slightly dampened, he took a sip of his coffee and clicked out of Google to check the news, silently grateful when he didn’t see himself or Rose looking back at him from the screen. He’d just made it through the second article when he heard Bill down the corridor. 

“Doctor?”

“My office,” he called out, and he heard Bill dropping her stuff in her own office. He took another sip of his shitty coffee, closing the webpages he’d been looking at and waiting for Bill to appear in his doorway, the same way she had been for the last seven years she’d been working for him. There wasn’t anything in particular they needed to go over, but he liked to stay apprised of the goings-on of his clinic when he wasn’t here. 

But Bill didn’t stop in the doorway, nor did she come in and have a seat in front of his desk. No, she marched into his cramped office and went to his desk, straightening and shuffling things around. 

“Oi!”

“Yeah?”

"What are you doing?" 

"Making room." 

Ian’s brows furrowed in confusion. "For what?" 

"Pictures," Bill said easily, not looking up at him. “Way the missus tells it, your desk at the office is getting a bit crowded with them.”

"Oh, fuck off,” he snapped, rolling his eyes.

"Ah, ah, ah, language, Doctor. Gonna have a little one around. Might as well get into the habit now.”

“Bill --”

“Don’t even try to deny it. I’ve already heard the whole story from Clara.” 

“There’s nothing to confirm or deny. Clara’s full of shit.”

Bill, predictably, ignored him, but did give up the pretense of cleaning his desk. “So, when do I get to meet her?”

"Quarter to fucking never."

“I’ve seen pictures, of course, and the two of you do make a lovely couple. Clara says she’s even cuter in person, though.”

“You’re not meeting her, and that’s fucking that.”

Bill snorted. “We’re not going to try to ‘turn’ her, Doctor. But Clara’s right, she could use a few friends.” 

“She has friends,” he said, repeating the same words he’d said to Clara just the day before. 

“Oh? She has friends other than you?”

“What’s so fucking wrong with me?” he burst out, defensive for no reason. 

“Doctor,” Bill said in a tone that should indicate what she was about to say was completely obvious, “she’s a twenty-four year old pregnant woman. Clara says that you told her the father of her baby died. For all intents and purposes, she’s alone.” He started to protest but she held a hand up. “You’re her friend and that’s wonderful. I’m sure you’re an amazing friend. But she needs _girl_ friends. People she can talk about girl stuff with.”

“I’m a fucking gynecologist!”

“You know what I mean,” she said with a look. 

Ian did. He knew Rose needed more than he could provide, but his own sense of self-preservation made him wary of putting Rose together with the two women he worked closest with. They knew him well, better than just about anyone, and would love nothing more than dishing to Rose all about him. What’s more, Clara knew exactly how he felt about Rose, meaning _Bill_ knew exactly how he felt about Rose, and he wouldn’t put it past the two of them to tell her.

But the instinct, that constant drive to do what was best for Rose niggled at the back of his mind. 

“You’re not meeting her,” he grumbled with much less vehemence than before. 

Bill smirked at him as they heard another employee enter the clinic. “We’ll see.”

~*~O~*~

24 January, 2012  
22 weeks

Rose laid back on the examination table and lifted her jumper, exposing her rounded tummy. Dr. Ross stepped over with the doppler and switched it on, pressing the wand to the right side of Rose’s belly, and the rhythmic swishing of her daughter’s heartbeat filled the room. She looked over at Ian. He’d brought the doppler to her cottage several times, but the sound never got less awe-inspiring for her. Apparently not for Ian, either. Without thinking, she reached for him and he caught her hand, twining their fingers and giving her a wink before turning back to Dr. Ross. Rose did the same. 

“One hundred and fifty eight beats per minute,” Dr. Ross announced.

“That’s good?”

“Perfect,” Ian assured her. “Absolutely perfect.”

Dr. Ross laid the doppler to the side and turned back to Rose, offering her hand. Ian got to his feet as well, and the two of them each took one of her hands to help pull her up. Rose didn’t need the help, she was perfectly capable of sitting up on her own, but she got the impression that it was habit for both of them and she wasn’t about to rock the boat. Instead, she just bit back a grin while Dr. Ross stepped over to the counter to get her chart and Ian sat back down beside her. 

“Everything looks good, Rose. Remarkably good. How are you feeling?”

“Really well,” she enthused. “I feel mostly like my old self, but with more energy. More positivity, you know?”

“How are you sleeping?”

“Fine.”

“Eating?”

She laughed. “Seems like I eat all the time!”

“Her diet is fine,” Ian supplied, and Dr. Ross darted her eyes over to him. “She tends to crave sodium, but nothing alarming.”

Dr. Ross nodded, then dismissed him. “Your weight looks good,” she remarked to Rose, flipping a page. “ _Everything_ looks good, really, so for the time being, we’re going to stay on the bi-weekly schedule of visits. We’ll probably go weekly around the beginning of the third trimester.”

Rose nodded, signaling she understood. “Alright.”

“Docherty may have talked to you about some of this already, but this is the time to start scheduling a birthing class and thinking about what you want your birthing experience to be like.”

“Like Lamaze classes?”

“Similar. There are lots to choose from. Docherty will help point you. And I’m sure he’ll be able to guide you _in_ the class as well, and when you’re writing your birth plan.”

Rose followed Dr. Ross’ raised eyes to Ian, finding him sitting there with his eyes blazing, his jaw tense. She had no idea what had been said to make him react that way, but she didn’t like seeing him like that. “Well,” she said with a sunny smile, catching Dr. Ross’ attention, “if he’s willing to help, that is.”

A glance over at Ian told her that he was smiling now, but it was tight, and she felt compelled to get him out of there. Maybe lunch would help him unwind. 

“Alright, then, you’re free to go,” Dr. Ross said, going to the door while Ian got to his feet to help her to stand. “See you in two weeks.”

“See you in two weeks!” Rose chirped, deliberately leaving her hand in Ian’s once she had two feet on the ground. When Dr. Ross was out of earshot, she said, “Are we still on for lunch?”

“Of course. What are you craving?”

“How about that burger place?”

“Sounds good to me,” he shrugged, and the two went down the hallway to his office so they could get their coats. Rose took a second while he was distracted to look over at the photos on his desk - the photo of him holding her at New Year’s and the ultrasound of her daughter. She’d always assumed that when people put photos out on their desk, it was of people they wanted close to them, people they missed while they were forced to work. The idea that Ian felt that way about her… _and_ her baby… 

She hid a small smile just as Ian turned around. 

“Are you ready?”

“Mhm.”

“Let’s go then.”

Rose followed him through the building, nodding and smiling when someone greeted her or Ian as seemed appropriate. The second they stepped through the glass front doors onto the pavement, Ian offered his elbow, grinning. Rose giggled a little when she took it, beaming up at him, and her heart fluttered when he gave her a wink. Together, they started down the pavement towards the bistro.

“So,” Rose started, pointedly ignoring the couple of photographers across the street. “Birthing classes?”

His arm tensed under hers and she wasn’t sure why. There wasn’t a chance to ask before he said, “She’s right, it’s time to start thinking about them.”

“Which do you recommend we sign up for?”

“‘We’?” he asked sounding tentative.

“Sure! You’re going to be there, right? Makes sense you’d have some say…”

He pulled her to a stop, turning her to look at him. She did so, smiling a little, taking in the look on his face, not quite understanding what she saw. He looked confused, but there was something sparking in his eyes she couldn’t quite identify. 

“You realize that the person that goes with you to the birthing class generally goes on to be your support person during delivery, right?”

Rose felt herself flush bright red. How presumptuous could she get? Of course he’d take exception to her just assuming he’d be her support person. 

“I’m sorry,” she started, not looking at him. “I had hoped… That was presumptuous. I shouldn’t have --”

His voice was quiet, and when she looked up at him, the corner of his mouth was quirked up and his eyes were twinkling. 

“You want me?”

_Yes. I do._

“When the baby comes?” he pressed. “You want me there? With you? Not your mother or someone?”

“I had hoped you’d be with me, yeah,” she answered, feeling as if she might explode. “That is, if you --”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he crooned, then pulled her into his arms and held her close. Rose buried her still-flaming face in his chest, circling his waist, enjoying the display of affection and not caring about the cameras across the street. The baby squirmed and she let herself have the fanciful notion that her daughter enjoyed the proximity to Ian as well. 

“You want to, then?” she asked, barely above a whisper.

“Nothing would make me happier, sweetheart.” 

She felt his lips press against the top of her head and a little thrill went all through her, then she relaxed a touch, nuzzling him closer. Ian would be by her side when she gave birth to her daughter, and just that knowledge gave her a peace that she hadn’t felt in a long, long time. Ian would be with her, holding her hand. Now she knew she’d be safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More fanart from the lovely and talented Rose--Nebula!! Thank you!!  
> 


	30. Chapter 30

26 January 2012

Rose curled into her usual corner of the couch after dinner, pulling her legs underneath her and making herself comfortable. Their Thursday evenings had fallen into something of a pattern; Ian would show up with food and the two of them would eat, laughing and joking with each other. Then, once the meal was finished, they’d each take up a position on the small couch while they waited for their show to come on. Tonight, Rose had brought the baby name book with her and was looking over it, occasionally calling names out to Ian for his input. 

“Chloe?” she suggested.

Ian wrinkled his nose. “Nah.” He scooted a little closer so that he could see the book with her. “What else do you see?”

She bent back down to the page, scanning. “Sophie?” 

He shook his head. “Nah.”

“Mollie?” Another shake of the head. “Annabelle?”

“Ah, finally a name that doesn’t end in the long - _e_ sound,” Ian teased. “I thought you were falling into a rut there for a few minutes.”

“Ha, ha, shut up,” she snarked back. “Do you like it?”

“What, Annabelle? No, not particularly.” Rose rolled her eyes with a grin, and Ian just leaned towards the book. “There’s bound to be just the perfect name in here… Aha! Lilly.”

She burst out laughing. “No.”

“Awh, why not?” he teased. 

“Just no.” 

“How about…” Ian looked back down at the list. “Violet?”

“No!” 

“Willow?”

“You’re impossible,” she laughed, wiping her eyes and shaking her head. “Look, here’s one to think about: Olivia.”

“Oh my God. Not Olivia.”

“Why not? It’s a lovely name.”

“The dumbest fucking name I’ve ever heard on a baby was Olivia.” Rose gave him a look and he elaborated. “Olivia Garton.”

“What?”

“It’s true. Her dumbshit parents named her after a shitty Italian joint. Even the breadsticks there are fucking terrible! And they named their _daughter_ after it? Might as well have named her fucking ‘Ruby Tuesday’ or some shit. Worst fucking salad bar _ever_.”

Rose giggled. “Alright, alright, you’ve made your point, I won’t name the baby ‘Red Lobster’. How about...Phoebe? Or Ella?”

“I’m going to take that book away from you,” Ian threatened. “It’s filling your head with terrible ideas.”

“I’m writing ‘Ella’ down,” she informed him, ignoring his grumbling and flipping to the back of the book with her pen in hand. “I think I like it.” He didn’t say anything while she made a note of the name - it was cute, but not quite _it_ for Ian. 

He hardly noticed what Rose was doing until she’d flipped back to the page of the book they’d left off on. She’d written Heather on the list as well as Ella.

“Heather? Really?”

Rose shrugged.

“You know that’s a flower, right?”

“What’s wrong with that?” she asked as she turned to the next page.

“Well, it’s not exactly a popular name.”

She looked up at him with a giggle. “Since when? In school there were three Heathers in my year alone.”

“Maybe where you grew up, but here it never really gained popularity as a name outside of Scotland.”

“Well, I like it.”

Ian wasn’t sure whether he did or not, but shrugged. “That’s what’s important.”

“And that you like it,” she grinned, nudging him with her shoulder. 

“That, too,” he agreed, still blown away by the idea that his opinion mattered.

~*~O~*~

28 January 2012

Ian stepped out of the labor and delivery room, throwing his gloves and gown into the trash, then leaning back against the wall and blowing out his cheeks. It had been a hell of a day, and he very much suspected it was going to be a long night, as well. Which was downright fucking infuriating. Not just because it was a Saturday - tonight was the night he had plans with Rose to go see The Mousetrap.

It wasn’t a _date_ , really - at least not in the strictest sense. They were just… friends. Friends who were going to the theater with each other. Naturally, they would have dinner together before the show, that was just logical. And, of course, there was the understanding between them that he would more than likely be spending the night at her cottage when the show was over. A night he would spend in an odd, mixed state of peaceful contentment and coiled tension from her proximity, trying desperately not to touch her but daydreaming about doing just that. 

The entire plan, though, was jeopardized by the fact that he’d forgotten he’d switched call with Perkins three weeks ago, and it seemed that every woman in their practice was ready to fucking give birth on this particular Saturday that he had plans with Rose. It was maddening, but there was nothing he could do about it. All he could do was cross his fingers that those women and the babies they carried would give him a reprieve to spend the evening with Rose. 

His mobile buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out.

~Rose: _What color is your tie?_  
~Ian: _don’t wear a tie with scrubs, sweetheart_  
~Rose: _wisearse. what color is your tie for tonight?_  
~Ian: _I don’t know. hadn’t gotten that far. why?_  
~Rose: _I’ve got two dresses, leaning towards one, but don’t want to clash with you_  
~Ian: _what color is the dress? I can match it, if you like._  
~Rose: _blue_  
~Ian: _I’ll be there at six in a blue tie._  
~Rose: _sounds good. see you then! ;)_

Like always, a little conversation with Rose was a big boost to his mood, but it was dashed immediately and he nearly groaned when he saw Joan sitting at one of the workstations at the nurse’s desk. They hadn’t spoken privately since she’d hinted around for an invitation to Pete’s party a few weeks before. There had been no follow-up texts or anything, and although he was glad, he suspected she’d be asking to see him again fairly soon. He hoped like hell that day wouldn’t be today. 

She looked up at him as he passed and he acknowledged her with a respectful, professional nod, not slowing down or giving her any opportunity to speak. He came to a stop several feet away when he reached across the desk to fetch a pen then started writing on the chart he carried. There wasn’t much left to do. If he could just wrap this up quickly, he could escape without having to talk to Joan and make it to his date/not date with Rose. He did his best to rush while maintaining professionalism. 

Ian looked up when he heard a giggle from his left. A couple of the floor nurses were standing a few feet away, heads bowed together, casting glances at him every so often.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

There was an urgent, whispered conversation, then the older of the two, whose badge labeled her ‘Leah’, spoke. "Yeah, Doctor, can you settle a bet?"

One eyebrow arched. "What bet?"

"Hannah here has been seeing all the stories in the red tops about you and Rose Tyler and thinks they're true."

Ian's other eyebrow joined the first near his hairline and he so, so quickly darted his eyes down to Joan. She was watching. _Fuck_.

"And you don't?" he asked, genuinely curious - and feeling a little challenged.

Leah snorted. "Nah. You don't seem like the romantic type to me. No offense or anything."

"None taken."

"But Hannah seems to think you are,” she went on, giggling when Hannah punched her and turned her back on Ian, flushing red and muttering ‘oh my God’. “So are you? Dating Rose Tyler, that is."

Ian was on the line, trapped. There was no good outcome for him here, and he could _feel_ Joan’s eyes on him. If he told the truth he’d be misleading Joan, letting her believe that there was any chance for them, however remote. But if he confirmed the tabs’ stories, if he suggested that he and Rose _were_ dating, that could be an absolute disaster in every possible way. His best shot was honesty. Of a sort. 

"Don't believe everything you hear," he all but muttered, and the two nurses fell into a huddle to discuss what they’d learned. 

Glancing down at the other end of the desk, he was more than a little unsettled to see Joan's small smile. Doing his best to brush it off, he filed the chart he was working on and headed to the elevator - without looking at Joan again when he left the ward.

He changed clothes at his own house quicker than lightning and before the neighbors could blink (not that they gave a fuck), he was back in his car, on the way to Rose’s to pick her up. A glance at the clock on his dash said that he wasn’t running behind, despite his earlier concerns, and he debated stopping on the way to pick up some flowers for her. This wasn’t a date, though, he reminded himself firmly. Then he glanced down at his matching tie. 

Well, not a _real_ date, anyway. 

Deciding against the flowers in the interest of saving time (or so he claimed to himself), he arrived at Rose’s cottage seven minutes before he was scheduled to be there. He didn’t bother to knock, guessing that Rose would have left the side door open for him and he was right. Ian called out to Rose as he shut the door behind himself so she wouldn’t be alarmed when she stepped out and saw him. 

Then she stepped out of her bedroom, he saw _her_ and he wasn’t alarmed, he was floored.

As promised, her dress was blue, a shade between royal and navy that was stunning against her creamy skin and very nearly matched the blue tie he wore. The hem landed a little above her knees, showing off a generous amount of her gorgeous legs. The cut of her dress showed off a fair (but not indecent) amount of cleavage and camouflaged her growing bump a bit, enough that if you didn’t know _for sure_ that she was expecting, there would be lingering questions. 

“Do I look alright?” she asked, her voice and smile cheeky. She did a little spin to show him the rest of her dress, and his eyes greedily drank up the sight of her. 

“Sweetheart,” he started in a somewhat strangled voice, “You are a vision.”

Rose flushed a little and looked down at herself, smoothing her hands down her dress, highlighting her bump momentarily. He itched to reach out and stroke the baby, but fought the urge. He couldn’t just touch her at will - either of them. They weren’t his.

“I’ll tell you this much,” Rose started, and his eyes were glued to her hands running back up her torso then… _cupping her breasts_. He tried not to gape. “Being pregnant has done wonders for my boobs. They’ve never looked this good!” 

He tried to look up at her face. He really, really did. But, consciously or not, the minx was driving him absolutely fucking stark raving mad, groping herself to illustrate just how different and - he assumed - fun they were. 

With maximum effort, he pulled his eyes and thoughts away from the sight of her undulating cleavage - filing that mental picture away for later. He cleared his throat and did his best to appear nonchalant. “Yes, well, are you ready to go?”

“Yes,” Rose answered, her tongue between her teeth. “Just let me grab my bag.”

Ian took a deep breath when she turned her back and went to her room to fetch her purse. _Get it together, Docherty, or you’ll never have this chance again_.

~*~O~*~

Ian congratulated himself on the reservations he’d gotten as the two of them sat down in the positively sumptuous restaurant. Within moments of their bums hitting the seats a waiter was standing beside the table, presenting a bottle of prohibitively expensive champagne. Ian very much wanted to order it just to be impressive, to prove that he could. He refrained, however, hoping he’d get another chance to do so, someday when Rose wasn’t pregnant and he wasn’t on call. Instead, he waved the champagne off, asking for waters instead.

“This is nice,” Rose marveled, a bright smile on her face, and he tried, he fucking _tried_ , but he couldn’t stop his eyes from darting to her chest when she bent towards him. “I’ve never been anywhere quite this posh,” she enthused, picking up her menu. “What’s good?”

Ian copied her and opened the menu, glancing over it. “I don’t know. I’ve never been here.”

“You haven’t?” she asked with raised eyebrow. “So we’re experimenting?”

With great effort, Ian hauled his mind out of the gutter. “I guess you could call it that,” he allowed. Then he teased, “Just thought I’d take you somewhere that didn’t serve pizza.”

She gave him a withering look but her eyes were twinkling and he grinned mischievously at her, tossing her a wink. 

The meals were ordered and conversation continued. Ian hadn’t realized how hungry he was until the bowl of greens appeared in front of him and he plunged in with gusto. Rose seemed equally interested in her meal, and they made light conversation while they ate. He thought he caught a couple of mischievous looks from her, but he wasn’t entirely sure. Then she drove it utterly out of his mind. 

“So, Ian, I have something to tell you. Something of a confession to make."

He swallowed hard, suddenly made terribly anxious by her casual, nonchalant tone. "Oh?"

"Yeah.”

She didn’t say anything else for a second and he waited a beat before he prodded her. “Well go on, then, don’t keep us in suspense.”

“I have a boyfriend."

The bottom dropped out of Ian's stomach and he worried he may be sick. “A boyfriend?”

"Mhm." Her eyes were twinkling and he didn't understand, but he decided to play along.

“You do?”

“I do, indeed,” she answered with quirked lip.

"Anyone I know?"

Rose nodded a little, her smile growing even though she was trying to keep it under control. "You may have met him. His name is Mark. He's a bit shorter than me, but terribly romantic."

Ian relaxed. He was almost certain she was taking the mick - he'd met a boy named Mark at the community center who had looked at Rose as if she was the most beautiful woman in the world - which she was, but that wasn't the point. She was teasing him about romantic matters, and he couldn’t help but see that as a wonderful sign. To his mind, it meant that she didn’t strictly see him as a platonic partner. She saw him as someone she would have to confess a romantic entanglement to or the existence of a potential rival. He was giddy.

“Mark, eh?” Ian answered in as nonchalant tone as he could muster, shoving his greens around in his bowl and trying not to look up at her and give away the humor in his eyes. 

“Yes. His surname is Bendis, I think,” Rose threw out airily. “Very handsome. Can hardly take his eyes off of me.”

“Easy to understand why,” Ian said, feeling daring. “A beautiful woman like you just kind of falling into his life, opening up his world like that. It’s like a fucking miracle, isn’t it? It’s no wonder he sees you as a madonna, savior of his universe.” 

He chanced a glance up at her from under his lashes and saw that she was flushing bright red. Deciding he’d laid it on thick enough, he toned it down a little, smiling smugly into his salad. He changed the subject by asking, “Did you tell your boyfriend that you were coming out tonight with me?”

“No,” she demurred, but didn’t get a chance to say anything else before Ian heard the sound he had been dreading - the ringtone for his answering service coming from his pocket. Swearing profusely, he reached for the mobile, trying not to look at Rose. He did, however, throw out an apology just before he pushed back his chair, daring a look at her as he stood. 

She was smiling, although clearly disappointed, and the sight ate at him. He wanted to tell the person on the other end of the mobile - the person that was interrupting his ‘date’ with Rose - to fuck off, but knew he couldn’t. He was forced to content himself with sounding more gruff when he answered. 

“Docherty,” he snapped into the mobile, doing his best not to notice Rose flagging down a waiter to ask for the check while he crossed the room. 

This was bad, very bad. This kind of abandonment - particularly on special occasions - was precisely the type thing Jenn had complained endlessly about; him leaving her behind and running off to take care of a patient - or, as Jenn had taken to calling them, ‘Ian’s many mistresses’. She’d known better, there had been no other woman and he simply had to work, but the accusation had stung anyway. 

Ian was surprised to see Rose joking with the waiter while they boxed up all the uneaten food, and she flashed him a brilliant smile when she spotted him from across the room. The sight of that smile weakened his knees just a bit and he was forced to lean against the wall for a minute while he listened to the person on the other end of the line telling him about the patient he was being called for. He couldn’t believe she was taking all of this in stride. Jenn - or any other woman Ian had ever dated - would have been making her displeasure known, leaving no room for doubt how they felt. But not Rose. She was laughing - _laughing_ \- and genuinely didn’t seem bothered that their not-date was being cut short. He wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about that.

“Alright,” he sighed. “I’ll be there soon.” Ending the call, he scrolled through his contacts until he found Henry’s name. Calling for Rose’s ride only took a few seconds, then he was slipping his mobile back in his pocket. 

Even though Rose seemed to be in good spirits, he felt compelled to apologize, and started to do so when he went back over to her.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart --”

She cut him off with a wave of her hand as she got to her feet. “It’s fine, perfectly fine.”

“It’s really not,” he argued, reaching for her coat to help put it on. “I feel awful about this.”

“Not as awful as you’d feel if you didn’t go help that new baby come into the world and something terrible happened,” she warned darkly.

Ian stiffened, his eyes widening, terror flooding him. “Don’t even think about things like that…”

Rose caught sight of the horrified look on his face and softened her own expression into a smile, sliding her hand along her belly. “I’m not worried about a thing, Ian. I know you won’t let anything happen to me or Helga.”

“You’re not naming her Helga,” he protested automatically, head still spinning a little.

She chuckled, and he felt his head clear just a bit when she bit her lip. “We’ll see. Are you ready to go?”

He wasn’t - he wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready to leave her side for any reason, but he needed to get to the hospital, regardless. 

“Yeah.”

“Go,” Rose said with a grin. “You’re needed at the hospital.”

“I’ve called Henry. I can wait until he gets here.”

She giggled, then put both hands on his shoulders and started pushing him a little. “Go to work. I’m fine. That baby isn’t going to wait.”

Ian pushed back against her for just a second, not wanting to leave her, but he had to admit that she had a point. “I’ll come by tomorrow…” he offered, and she nodded. 

“Go!” she laughed. “You have somewhere to be!”

Still stunned by the differences between Rose and Jenn, he bent over and kissed her cheek goodbye. “I’ll make this up to you, I swear.”

“I believe you,” she smiled up at him. “Now go!”

Unable to stop himself, he kissed her cheek one more time, then waved over his shoulder as he made his way out of the restaurant to catch a cab.

~*~O~*~

Rose stood on the sidewalk, her hand raised in farewell as Ian’s cab pulled away to take him to work. The brake lights had just disappeared around the corner and she was lowering her arm when a sleek, black sedan pulled up beside her. She didn’t have time to react before Henry was standing beside her, opening the passenger door and taking the bags of leftover food from her hands. It only took a couple of seconds for Rose to get situated in the luxurious back seat, then Henry closed the door and went to get into the driver’s seat.

“Henry,” she said when the car pulled away from the curb. 

The driver looked in the mirror to see her. “Yes, Rose?”

“Can you take me to the theater?”

Henry’s brows furrowed. “The theater? Dr. Docherty said you’d be headed home for the evening.”

“And I will be, but I need to handle these tickets first. Please.”

“Whatever you like,” Henry said, then made the left turn towards the theatre district while Rose smiled softly and traced her fingertips along her belly.

It took only a few minutes to discuss the issue with the theater manager. There was nothing that could be done to exchange the tickets, unfortunately, but there were two similar seats available for the 12 February afternoon matinee. It wouldn’t be quite the same as his gift to her of an evening out, but Rose had no problem paying for the new tickets, and maybe they’d make a day of it. 

She got back into the car with a smile on her face, wondering what Ian would think of what she’d done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ladies and gentlemen, if I may call your attention to a couple of housekeeping-type things...
> 
> 1) _HOLY CRAP_ WE'RE OVER A THOUSAND COMMENTS!!! Seriously, you guys are amazing and we absolutely LOVE reading what you have to say...your comments, your questions, your predictions...all of it. Don't give up on us! 
> 
> 2) Our very own RishiDiams turns 21 this weekend!!! Happy Birthday, Rishi!  
> To celebrate, if you don't mind, please throw out your favorite picture of Peter Capaldi (Ian) or Sam Reid (Fergus), or just anything funny. Bonus points for gifs!! (To add a picture/gif, use < img src="url"> with no space after the first < and stick the picture's URL in where it says "url"!)


	31. Chapter 31

3 February, 2012

“And you’re _sure_ you don’t mind?”

Henry gave her a stern look in the rear view mirror. Rose didn’t flinch. 

“I honestly don’t mind.”

“Won’t Anna complain if you take Mum and I out shopping this evening? I’ve kept you away all day.”

“Anna is absolutely grateful to you and your family for this job. She was only still at home with Philip because he wasn’t old enough to go to a minder’s while she went back to work. Your dad offering me this position makes it so that she can stay home with the baby indefinitely. I’m lucky m’wife doesn’t shove me out the door with both hands every morning and bar the door until the day is done.”

Rose giggled. “I think I need to meet her.” 

“Oh, I’m not sure the two of you should ever meet,” Henry said, sounding a little alarmed. “That could be bad for me.”

“Why, Henry Wells,” she gasped, sounding scandalized. “I’m downright hurt that you don’t trust me…”

“See what I mean?” he demanded, and Rose burst into giggles. “The two of you together…” He shuddered, then chuckled along with Rose. “Best not to cross those streams.”

Rose giggled a little more, caressing her growing belly, feeling the baby squirm. “But really, I promise not to keep you out _too_ late. Carrying this little lady means I can’t party quite as hard as I used to.”

Henry chuckled and turned into the mansion’s big circle drive. “You can stay out as late as you want. All I need is enough time to go home and change clothes before tomorrow morning. If I get that, I’m good.”

“You’ll have much more time than that,” Rose grinned as Henry brought the car to a stop and hopped out. When he opened her door, she climbed out and started toward the door. “I won’t be long. Depends on how long it takes Mum to get ready to go.”

“Take your time,” Henry said with a small, kind smile, leaning back against the car and crossing his ankles. “I’ve nowhere to be.”

Rose dashed off into the house, looking around for someone to let her mother know she was there. It occurred to her to shout for Jackie, but she somehow felt like that lacked the decorum she was supposed to have as Rose Tyler, Heiress. Resolving to enlist the help of the first maid she ran across, she started poking her head into rooms, looking for her mum. She was just outside Pete’s study door when she overheard Pete and Jackie talking together. 

"I can't believe you're encouraging this."

"Hush. He makes her happy."

Pete sounded agitated, and Rose came to a stop outside the door, one hand on the wood and the other hand on the baby.

“Lots of other things could make her happy. Other _people_.”

Rose could almost hear her mother shrug. “She likes him. I’m happy for her, personally.”

The sound of papers slapping down onto the desk, and then Pete burst out: "He's damn near 46, Jacks! That's - _oof_!"

She almost couldn’t hear her mother’s fierce tone over what sounded like Pete falling back into his leather chair. 

"Now you listen to me, Peter Alan Tyler. All any parent ever wants is for their child to be safe and happy. I know it’s been rough waters between you and Rose, and I’m sorry. But that's my baby girl and she's found someone that makes her smile in _this_ godforsaken universe. Besides, if he’s so dreadful, why do you even have him around? This is your best friend! You should be happy!”

“It’s not --”

“You're going to _be_ happy or be quiet. Am I clear?"

“Jacks --”

“ _Am I clear, Peter?_ ”

Rose heard Pete sigh. “Yes.” 

As silently as possible she moved away from the door, headed back towards the foyer, still keeping her eyes open for a maid to flag down.

~*~O~*~

Rose shifted the bag she was carrying to the other hand, seriously considering making a trip back to the car to drop it off while she and her mum finished shopping. She’d offered to take her mother out for her birthday, but she hadn’t been expecting there to be a huge sale at the maternity store. Rose had scored quite a lot of clothes at a fantastic deal. She justified the purchases to herself, saying that she needed them for work - and that was true, she did need work clothes. But most of the clothes she’d picked up would be more appropriate for casual evenings out… like the evenings she spent with Ian.

Speaking of Ian, she hadn’t heard from him yet this evening, and that was somewhat unusual. He usually texted when he left the office, just to say hello even if he wasn’t coming over to her house. But it was nearly half seven and she hadn’t heard from him at all. Maybe he was on call…

“Feeding systems,” Jackie sneered, and Rose stepped over to where her mother stood in front of the display of fancy-looking bottles and accoutrements. “When I had you, there weren’t any _feeding systems_. You put the milk in a bottle and gave it to the baby!”

“I’m not planning to bottle feed her, Mum,” Rose explained patiently for what seemed like the hundredth time. “I’m planning to breastfeed her exclusively.”

“Pish posh,” Jackie said, brushing Rose off and continuing down the aisle. “Every mother says that. And it’s a wonderful idea, don’t get me wrong, but difficult in practice. What about anyone _else_ feeding the baby? Don’t you think other people would like that bonding experience, too? And you’re going to want a shower sometimes, you know. Or a nap. It’ll be nice to be able to hand the baby off to myself or Ian or someone and let us handle everything so you can rest.”

Rose felt herself flush bright red at the inclusion of Ian’s name. But before she had much of a chance to process it, Jackie tried to get Rose’s attention to show her a babygro. 

“Look, Mum,” Rose cooed, picking up a blanket, flexing her hands in the incredibly soft fleece. “It’s so sweet.”

Jackie looked right down her nose at it. “It’s blue.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m having a grand _daughter_ , not a grand _son_.”

Rose rolled her eyes with a grin. “Like it matters. She’s going to be too little to know the difference.”

“ _I’ll_ know the difference. Now, just put it back where it belongs,” Jackie encouraged with a shooing motion, as if the receiving blanket were dirty somehow, just by virtue of being blue.

“No, I think I’ll hang on to it,” Rose explained. “Henry has a new baby boy, and his wife is just a couple of years older than I am. I think I may take a gift over, maybe try to get to know her a bit. I could use some friends, especially new mum friends.”

“Well that’s a wonderful idea, sweetheart,” Jackie said, and Rose felt a little jolt at her mother’s use of Ian’s pet name for her. 

As if summoned by a thought, Rose’s mobile played Ian’s text tone and she grabbed for it. 

~Ian: _any luck finding an outfit?_

She smiled to herself, biting her lip and trying not to flush.

~Rose: _found too many. it’s nice to not be relegated to muumuus_  
~Ian: _you look gorgeous no matter what you wear_

“Who’s that on the phone?” Jackie asked with a quirked brow, and Rose felt her face flaming. 

“It’s Ian,” she answered, even as she tapped out a quick response to him. “He’s just checking in.”

Jackie gave her a shrewd look, then threw out, “He doesn’t have a date or something?”

Rose had been Jackie Tyler’s daughter for more than two decades and immediately recognized her mother trying to open the door to talk about Ian in a casual way. She briefly considered shutting her down and not discussing Ian at all, but she knew it would only be a temporary measure. Jackie would get the information she wanted eventually.

“I’m fairly certain that he’s not dating anyone,” she said calmly, in as nonchalant a tone as she could manage. She didn’t take the time to analyze the flare of jealousy she felt at the thought of Ian out with another woman. 

“That’s a shame,” Jackie said. “He’s a handsome bloke. Good man, too. He shouldn’t be alone.”

"He used to be married,” Rose mumbled feeling the same churning in her gut she felt every time she thought of Ian being married. “Didn’t last long, though."

Jackie eyed her carefully. "Did he tell you anything else about her?"

Rose shrugged. "Just that he blames himself for her leaving, is all. He was working a lot of late shifts. She asked him to choose and he chose his work."

Jackie made a disgusted noise and hung up the babygro she was looking at, picking up another one. "That’s not how your dad told it at all."

She ignored Pete being called ‘dad’ this time. "What did he tell you?"

"Pete says he never liked Ian’s wife. The two of them met at some party or another, and Ian fell fast and hard. She didn’t seem nearly as interested in him as she was the fact that he was already wealthy and a doctor to boot, even though he was still in his residency. Ian loved his career, but his wife thought he should be hobnobbing with the wealthy alongside her to advance himself instead of focusing on making other people’s lives better. Ian wasn’t interested. Eventually she got tired of waiting for him to come around and left. Tried to take everything she could get her hands on, too. Ian didn't fight her for much, but she didn’t manage to get the stuff and money he had before they married. She _did_ get the house, the cars, and all the furniture. He moved into the cottage for a few months while he looked for a new house.”

“So it wasn’t Ian’s fault,” Rose remarked to herself. 

“Nope. She was little better than a golddigger. Ian is well rid of her.”

Rose’s mind spun. Part of her wanted to go back in time and find Jenn to give her a Tyler slap for being such a bint to Ian and treating him that way. She wanted to shake the woman. Ian was wonderful, he deserved to be treated wonderfully! Not like that! 

But a quiet little voice inside her was glad for everything that had happened. Not that Ian had been hurt, never that, but that Jenn had been such a piece of work. It paved the way for Ian to be her friend now. And Rose was sure that she wouldn’t trade Ian for all the tea in Asia - or anywhere else, for that matter. He was precious to her, dear to her, and if his ex-wife had been a wonderful woman that he’d stayed married to, he might not be in Rose’s life today.

~Ian: _do you want me to come pick you up? You can send Henry home_

She grinned down at her mobile screen before she started typing out a message. No, she couldn’t be sad about what had happened to him in his past. Not if it meant he was a part of her life now.

~*~O~*~

4 February 2012

Ian couldn’t help but notice that Rose had been unusually anxious about her mother’s birthday dinner. He knew all too well that she didn’t particularly enjoy society functions, but she seemed to be adept at saying and doing the right things even if she wasn’t wild about it.

But this felt different to him. She was _really_ dreading the evening, he could tell. Anytime he mentioned it, she clammed up. He prodded her gently, trying to get to the bottom of her insecurities, thinking maybe he could help solve them. She stonewalled him, though, something she never did, and remained uncharacteristically silent. 

When Ian got to her cottage an hour before they were supposed to be at the mansion and Rose was still in her dressing gown, red-eyed from crying, he’d had enough. He pulled her over to the sofa in the lounge and sat her down, taking her hand in both of his. 

"Sweetheart, you’ve been upset about tonight for weeks. Tell me what’s wrong."

Her lip quivered and her big brown eyes went glossy with tears. It ripped his fucking heart out to see her that way and he cupped her cheek. She broke, and her head came to rest against his chest. Sighing, he put his arms around her and let her cry, rubbing her back as she sobbed, thinking to offer her a handkerchief before he realized that she was covering that pocket.

After a time, her sobs broke off into snuffles, and she started to sit back up. He pulled his handkerchief out of his now-free pocket and offered it to her. She accepted gratefully.

"Do you want to talk about it, sweetheart?"

She was silent for another minute or so, then started speaking in a voice that was much more watery than Ian liked.

"You know we came here before, yeah? Before I got stuck here. I came with Mickey and the Doctor."

"And you three helped get rid of the Cybermen."

"Right. Thing is, my dad was dead. In the other universe, I mean. The Doctor had taken me back to 1987 and I watched him die. But this Pete was alive and I wanted to meet him. The Doctor told me it was a bad idea, talked about how everything in this world was like a gingerbread house, but did I listen?" She gave a mirthless laugh.

He already knew all of this, but wasn't about to cut her off from telling him what was hurting her. “Anyone would understand that, Rose. Even if they had fucking pudding for brains, they should be able to understand that."

Rose didn’t flinch at the dig at the Doctor. "So we came to the mansion and they were having a party."

Understanding dawned on him, and everything clicked into place. “It was the night the Cybermen attacked. Jackie’s birthday.”

She nodded, not meeting his eyes. “I met her, you know. We’d dressed as catering staff to sneak into the party, and she took a break out on the terrace. The very terrace where you met me, in fact,” she said with a weak smile for him. “I tried talking to her, but she...she was _awful_ , Ian. Just horrid. And it was weird, because she looked like my mum, and for a minute she _acted_ like my mum, but then she showed her true colors. She was absolutely _not_ my mum.”

“What that Jackie was like has nothing to do with you, sweetheart. She was a fucking bitch. Believe me. She liked nothing better than treating me like fucking shit on her favorite shoe - and it wasn’t just me she treated that way. This Jackie - your mum - is much nicer to be around. Not that that’s a high bar to clear…” He hoped she’d laugh, swat him, something. But she barely seemed to notice he’d spoken.

“I mean, that’s not even all, it’s just… I was here with the Doctor on Mum’s birthday last time. But he’s gone now.”

Ian could feel his heart crack right down the middle. Of fucking course the Doctor factored into this somehow. She was right - the Doctor was gone. But _he_ was here. She was with _him_ now. Maybe not in the way he wanted her to be, but he’d thought it was a good thing. Apparently, he’d thought wrong. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said in a quiet voice, feeling defeated and a little hopeless. And he _was_ sorry. He’d never be able to replace the Doctor, this scary handsome genius from space. It was stupid to think he could.

Before he could dwell on it for more than a moment, Rose leaned over against him, and his arms went around her automatically. 

“I'm sorry,” she snuffled. “I know you hate when I talk about him.”

Ian swallowed his bruised pride. “He was a big part of your life, sweetheart. It's only natural that he come up in conversation. I don’t begrudge you that.” She didn't say anything in response, so he just held her for a few moments, lowering his lips to her hair. After a while, he said, “Tonight is going to be different from that night. It’s just a dinner party. A rather large dinner party, true, but it’s going to be casual.”

“I know,” she said, and she still sounded a bit weak. 

The Doctor wasn’t here, and Ian prayed he’d never show up. But goddammit, _he_ was here. He wasn’t going anywhere. And he’d do absolutely anything to keep her safe and happy. 

With that in mind, he set out to cheer her up a bit. “I can promise you a few things about tonight, if that'll make you feel better.”

She sniffled. “What things?”

“Well, first, your mum is going to stay your mum. No one is going to turn her into a fucking robot.”

“That's a good start,” she said, and he thought he heard the hint of a smile.

“Second, Ripley is going to bore the shit out of us with talk about fucking horses.”

He definitely heard the smile now. “That's a given. What else?”

“Mickey is going to be a jackarse.”

She actually giggled a little at that, and he felt like a hero. “Be nice, Ian.”

“I am fucking nice,” he mock protested. “Telling the truth isn’t mean.”

“Is that all you know about tonight?”

“No.” Ian did his best to put just as much meaning into the words as he could. “I know that I won't leave your side unless you want me to.”

She sniffled and looked up at him. “You won't?”

“I won’t. I’ll be right there beside you the whole night, I fucking swear. You don’t have to face this alone, sweetheart.”

“Thank you,” she fairly whispered. 

He brushed her hair back from her face. “Rose, I don't ever want you to censor yourself with me. If you need or want to talk about the Doctor, I want you to. There's nothing you can't tell me. Nothing you could say - nothing at all - would make me disappear.”

Rose’s lip was wibbly and her eyes were swimming. “Promise?” 

He raised his hand to cup one cheek. “I swear on everything that is holy, sweetheart.”

A single tear fell and Ian smiled at her, deciding to try for levity. “That said, I might just leave you sitting right here while I go up to the house and get some fucking cake. I hear it's devil’s food. If it is, I’ll be forced to leave your side long enough to get some. Devil’s food is the exception to nearly all rules.”

Rose laughed, just as he'd hoped, and he smiled even brighter. Then he wiped her cheek again, just for the comfort of touch. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. I can’t bear to see you cry.”

“I’m alright.” She wiped her eyes and sniffed loudly. “Really. I’m fine. Just had a moment there.”

“Do you want to skip this dinner tonight?” he asked, brushing an errant lock of hair behind her ear. “We’ll stay here if you want, skip the fucking party. I’ll order food - something delicious that’s terrible for us - then ring Pete and tell him we can’t make it. Your mum won’t mind if we have dinner with her tomorrow night.”

She shook her head. “No, I’ll go. Wouldn’t want you to miss out on devil’s food cake.” He grinned, and she mirrored him before a cloud of anxiety crossed her features again. “But… you’ll really stay with me?”

“I’ll stay as close or as far away as you want me to, sweetheart. You set the terms.”

Rose looked at him for a few seconds, then darted forward and kissed his cheek before getting to her feet. “Thank you. I won’t be long.”

“Take your time,” he said, a little dazed by her impromptu kiss. “I’ll text Pete and let him know we’re running late.”

Rose left him with a smile. It was small, but he was grateful to see it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're over 100k words, and you guys are still with us! Thank you! Please continue to stick with us, as we're of the opinion that this story only gets better.


	32. Chapter 32

Once Ian heard the bedroom door close, he pulled out his mobile and texted Pete, as promised. 

~Ian: _Rose and I are running a bit behind._  
~Pete: _What’s wrong? Is she okay?_  
~Ian: _anxiety and hormones. she’s alright._  
~Pete: _just take care of her and get here when you can._

Ian scoffed. As if he’d do anything _other_ than take care of Rose. Wasn’t capable of anything else.

In no time at all, Rose came out into the lounge, stealing Ian’s breath. She wore a pair of slim-fitting burgundy denims with an oversized, off-white jumper that fit her closely enough to show off her bump. A silk scarf that perfectly matched her outfit circled her neck. Her hair had previously been in something like a bun on top of her head, but now it fell around her face in waves that looked like she’d spent hours on them. Her makeup was skillfully applied, and he could barely tell she’d been crying. Someone who didn’t know wouldn’t be able to tell at all. He was mesmerized by her, completely enchanted, and hoped fervently that she’d want him to stay beside her all night.

She plopped down in a chair with a pair of brown riding boots, pulling them on.

“Oof,” she complained. “Beulah is getting in the way of me doing that.”

Ian recoiled, playing his part dutifully. “You are _not_ naming that baby Beulah, Rose Tyler. Besides, she already has a name: Phlox.”

Rose laughed merrily. “No way in hell.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll wear you down.”

She gave him a mischievous, tongue-touched smile and he melted. “Probably have to hire someone to put my shoes on towards the end, huh?”

“Maybe not,” he said, pulling his thoughts back where they needed to be. “We’ll have to burn that fucking bridge when we get there.”

She got to her feet. “There. I’m ready to go have dinner for my Mum’s birthday. Ready as I’m gonna be, anyway. Would you escort me, sir?”

“It would bring me the greatest pleasure.” He grinned at her as he pulled her coat from the rack and held it up and out. Rose obediently turned her back to him so that he could assist her in putting it on. That task completed, he offered his elbow to her. “Shall we?”

She took the offered elbow, giggling a little, and they started across the garden, headed towards the mansion.

Ian and Rose were the last to arrive, which meant there wasn’t much time to socialize before dinner. They were spotted by Mickey as soon as they entered the lounge, and Ian was surprised to find the idiot had a date, and an attractive one at that. He stayed right where he was with his arm around Rose while Mickey and his date made their way over. Rose elbowed him and hissed ‘smile’ through her teeth. He’d rather not smile at the dipshit, but if Rose wanted him to…

“Mickey!” She greeted her friend with a hug, and Ian fumed. “Glad you’re here tonight.”

“I couldn’t miss your mum’s birthday.”

“Who’s this with you?” Rose asked with a smile. 

“This is Martha,” Mickey said, puffed up with pride. “Martha Jones.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Martha Jones,” Rose said with a warm smile, shaking Martha’s hand. “I’m Rose Tyler and this,” she indicated him, “is Ian Docherty.”

Ian shook the woman’s hand politely. “Charmed.”

“Martha’s a doctor,” Mickey volunteered.

“Really?” Rose asked with raised eyebrows. “That’s wonderful! So is Ian!” She turned a little and laid her hand on his chest for a moment, beaming up at him, obviously proud, distracting him.

“What field of medicine?” he asked, when he regained his senses.

“Trauma,” she answered. “You?”

“Obstetrics.”

“Martha was hired on by Torchwood towards the end of last year,” Mickey bragged. “Only took me a month to talk her into a date with me.”

A smart retort sprung to Ian’s lips, but Rose anticipated this and elbowed him in the side. He obediently shut his mouth. 

“I imagine you two will have a lot to talk about,” Rose said, sounding sunny.

Before anyone could say anything else, the maid came into the room and announced dinner. Rose looked up at him before they started towards the dining room, and he gave her waist a reassuring squeeze, then dragged his hand along the small of her back and clasped her hand. Pete and Jackie were standing at the doorway, gesturing towards the dining room and greeting everyone. Ian didn’t miss the pointed look that Pete gave him, nor did he miss Jackie smiling at their joined hands. 

Once they reached the dining room, he held out Rose’s chair before he took the seat beside her. Mickey and Martha were in the seats directly across from them, and Ian grumped internally about having to look at the fucking idiot all night. He didn’t have long, though, before Martha started asking him questions. He was pleased to find that she was quite clever as well as personable and kind. Her only flaw, really, seemed to be that she’d attached herself to a shitheap like Mickey. The conversation gave him opportunity to show off a bit for Rose, who cast him admiring glances every now and again. He winked at her and took a great deal of pleasure in her answering blush. He took even more pleasure in Mickey’s scowl.

When dinner was over he laid one arm across the back of Rose’s chair, once again basking in the dirty look Mickey was giving him and not missing Pete’s pursed lips in his direction. Rose looked over at him, smiling demurely, and he beamed.

After dinner the guests gathered in one of the formal parlors to sip brandy or scotch while they socialized. Ian accepted a glass of scotch, knowing he could stay with Rose if need be, and offered to get her a water or sparkling cider but she declined.

They were chatting with another couple, Ian’s arm back around Rose’s waist, when Pete interrupted them, pulling him and Rose to the side.

“Sorry,” he apologized, “I hate to be rude, but Rose, your mother wants you with her when she cuts the cake.”

Ian felt a little prickle of alarm: Rose would be away from him, and he’d promised to stay right beside her. She looked at him doubtfully before turning and nodding at Pete with a weak smile. “Yeah, okay.”

Pete and Rose turned to leave but Ian grabbed her elbow, holding her back for a second. Pete looked back at them, giving Ian a look. 

“She’ll be along in a second. Go on. Shoo.” He gave Pete his best glare when the other man didn’t move. “Go the fuck away.”

Pete rolled his eyes but did as instructed, going over to where Jackie stood.

“Are you alright?” Ian asked, once he was out of earshot.

“I’m fine.” She gave him a smile, but it was a front. He’d learned to spot the difference long ago.

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. Or I can go with you.”

“No, I’m okay, Ian. Really.”

He eyed her skeptically. “Are you sure?”

“I’m positive.” Her smile was a little more genuine this time, and she smoothed her hand on her belly. He gave her a gentle smile in return, reaching out and stroking her bump himself. 

“I’ll be right here, alright?”

She nodded, and he didn’t like the little glimmer of uncertainty, but he had no recourse. He couldn’t go with her to a family thing - that wasn’t his place. 

_Yet._

Rose turned and followed the same path Pete had taken through the crowd. He watched her until she was with Pete and Jackie, then stepped over to the bar to make himself another scotch. Maybe the alcohol would soothe his jangling nerves.

He had just finished pouring and was stoppering the glass bottle when he was clapped on the shoulder. John Stockman circled around, and Ian offered his hand. 

“John, how the fuck are you?”

“I’m good,” Stockman said, shaking Ian’s hand and releasing it. 

“Business is alright?”

“Very well. It always picks up in the cold months. You see...”

He didn’t give a tap dancing fuck about whatever Stockman was about to say, but thankfully, he was spared having to make up some excuse to get away from him by Pete calling for everyone’s attention. Ian’s eyes sought out Rose, finding her standing right beside her father and looking distinctly uncomfortable. Her smile was wooden and more of a grimace than anything else. He could see the coiled tension in her and it reminded him strongly of how she’d looked at Pete and Jackie’s vow renewal. He hadn’t known her well enough do anything about it then, but now he longed to go to her, wrap her in his arms, and whisk her away from this situation that made her feel so uneasy. 

But he _still_ couldn’t, and it made his teeth itch.

“Jackie, Rose, and I would just like to take this opportunity to thank you for coming tonight. I’m sure you all know it’s been quite a year for our little family, lots of ups and downs, but there are many reasons to celebrate. Tonight, we celebrate my wife, Jackie.” 

Through the door came a member of the catering staff carrying a cake that was covered with candles, and the room burst into song. Ian grinned a little when he saw Jackie swat at Pete for putting all those candles on, but she did it with a smile, and she was still grinning when the song finished and she blew them out. The crowd cheered a little, then went back to their conversations, most of them starting to make their way to the cake. Something like an impromptu receiving line had formed, and Ian located Rose. She looked marginally more comfortable now, talking to David Ripley and his wife, stroking a hand down her belly. He snorted a little. Ripley was likely trying to talk her into signing the baby up for riding lessons. She looked up, her eyes seeking him out and finding him easily, and smiled at him. He smiled back, relieved, then she turned back to the conversation she was having.

“So, are you sleeping with her?” 

The reminder that Stockman was still behind him was like a cold shock of water. Every muscle in Ian’s body tensed and he turned with narrowed eyes, his voice low and dangerous.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

“The tabs are saying the baby’s yours, but the maths seem kind of tight to me. Can’t say I blame you for getting in there, though, mate. Even up the duff, she’s a prime piece. I thought she was stunning back in September. She was certainly fun to look at then. But being pregnant has really,” he made a gesture at his chest, “filled her out.”

Ian saw red, a fury like he’d never known seizing him. He wanted to slam Stockman against the wall by the throat and make sure that the fucker never said another word about Rose - cross or otherwise. He wanted to punch the other man’s stupid, smarmy face, and his fist clenched reflexively.

But he couldn’t do anything. He didn’t dare make a scene at Jackie’s birthday party. Rose had been terribly anxious about the whole night until he’d talked her down; it wouldn’t do for him to cause a disruption. The situation required a bit of finesse.

Stockman raised his glass and used it to point at Ian, heedless of the wrath he was calling down upon himself. “Don’t get too caught up, though. Have your fun and get out. You don’t need to be stuck cleaning up someone else’s mess at your age.”

“‘Someone else’s mess’?”

“The baby. No reason for you to have to raise another man’s brat. It’s not like you’re the one who knocked her up.”

Ian gave a hollow laugh and took a sip from his scotch. Fuck finesse. He was going to do this his own way, and it was going to be _fun_. 

Swallowing and smacking his lips, he looked at Stockman and knew from the way the other man flinched a little that the smile on his face was deadly. As intended.

“First of all, you little prick, it’s not a brat or ‘someone else’s fucking mess’, it’s a baby girl. Secondly, I wonder if your wife would be interested in knowing that you think the daughter of one of your fucking friends is a ‘prime piece’.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

His eyebrows flew up. “Wouldn’t I?”

Stockman’s mouth moved soundlessly for a moment. Then, triumphantly, “You do and I’ll tell Pete about you and Rose.”

If he was being honest, as madly in love with Rose as he was, it was probably entirely obvious to anyone with a pair of eyes. He’d have to deal with Pete eventually, but he wasn’t going to give Stockman the satisfaction of thinking he’d scored even a tiny point with that jab.

“What makes you think he doesn’t know?”

"Oh, come off it. You can’t make me believe he’d be okay with you fucking his little girl. You’re still here, therefore, he doesn’t know. And I’m pretty sure you’d like to keep it that way. So, no, I don’t think you’ll be mentioning anything to Michelle."

“I don’t give a good goddamn if you hire a fucking mariachi band to _serenade_ Pete with this news you believe you’ve discovered. That’s between me and Pete. As far as what’s between you and your lovely wife though... It’s only fair to tell Michelle, don’t you think? See, I’ve heard rumors of you fucking your head of accounting. ‘Working lots of late nights’, all that shit. I seem to remember that you’ve gotten yourself into hot water with your wife more than once over your propensity for fucking younger women, prancing around like you’re packing a ten inch solid gold dick. God’s fucking gift to women. I could even come up with a clever way to let her in on your little secret. How often does she take the tube? I could buy ad space at each station, just to cover my fucking bases. How do you think Michelle would like ‘Businessman Caught Stuffing More Than Just Cans’? Or ‘Stockman’s Head of Accounting Praised for Tight Seal’?”

“Go to hell, you son of a bitch.”

Playtime was over. Ian took a half step forward, lowering his voice and making it as fierce as he possibly could, his hands clenched by his sides. “If I ever hear of you talking about Rose again, if I see you near her, if I even see you fucking _look_ at her in a way that I don’t like, I will rip off your cock and shove it down your throat. And when you fail to choke on it because it’s hardly more than a matchstick, I will use your bollocks as a door stop. Of course, I might have to fight Michelle for the privilege, since this will be _after_ I tell your fucking wife that after all these years, you _still_ can’t keep your needledick in your pants.” Stockman looked livid, and Ian grinned. “Enjoy the rest of your evening. I hear the cake is devil’s food.”

Ian turned and walked away before he decided bollocking the rat bastard wasn’t enough and did something unforgivable in Pete’s parlor. He made his way to the other side of the room, as far away from Stockman as he could be and with as good a view of Rose as possible, then sipped his scotch and glared at the world at large. He no longer wanted to be here, he wanted nothing more than to grab Rose and get the fuck out, but he’d promised. He couldn’t possibly leave.

Rose was looking more comfortable now, her smile less plastic, her posture less wooden. Ian was relieved to see it, but still tense. She turned her head quickly and spotted him, and he didn’t have time to wipe the scowl off his face before she saw it. Her brows knitted with concern. 

“You okay?” she mouthed.

Ian nodded and raised his glass a little with the best smile he could muster. She didn’t look convinced, but turned back to the conversation. Ian’s face fell back into a scowl once she wasn’t looking at him and he brooded. Fucking Stockman. He’d never liked the bastard, not really. And honestly, he’d known that at some point people would start hypothesizing about his relationship with Rose. He’d known that it would sting when that happened. But the fucker honestly didn’t know how close he’d come to --

“Ian?”

He snapped out of his thoughts to find Rose standing in front of him, her hand touching his bicep lightly, her brown eyes worried. 

“Hey, sweetheart.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

Feeling himself relax a little at once just from her presence, he smiled - a genuine smile. “I’m fine. Had words with Stockman, is all.”

She raised her eyebrows. “What kind of words?”

“Just a disagreement. Nothing for you to worry about,” he answered, refusing to lie to her but not wanting to reveal the truth of what had happened.

Rose looked skeptical. “Do we need to have him thrown out?”

For a hot second he thought about saying ‘yes’, but in the end he shook his head. “No, sweetheart, don’t worry about that.”

“If you insist…” She looked around the room. “Do you think we could slip away yet? My back is hurting.”

“Absolutely,” he said, draining the rest of his scotch, setting the glass down, and turning to her. “Let’s get you home.”

Rose slipped her hand around his elbow, then let it slide down his arm. He closed his fingers around her small, soft hand, and the two left the party, grabbing their coats and exiting through the back door towards Rose’s cottage. Ian hoped like hell Stockman had seen Rose take his hand before they left.

“Oh, Ian,” Rose said suddenly, pulling him to a stop partway across the garden. 

“What?”

“I forgot that you wanted cake. I’m so sorry.”

He laughed a little, delighted with her and how fucking sweet she was. “It’s alright, sweetheart. I’m sure there will be some left over. Besides,” he said, patting his belly with his free hand. “I don’t need any fucking cake. I’m already gaining weight, just from being around you.”

“Sympathy weight?” she asked, her tongue between her teeth.

Ian gave her a mock-cross look, and she giggled - as he’d hoped. The sound made him smile, and the two of them continued making their way across the garden.

“Are you gonna stay with me tonight?” 

Ian felt his stomach swoop. “Do you want me to?”

“You’ve been drinking. I think you should.”

“I didn’t drink too much. I’d be alright to drive.”

She was quiet for a second, then said, “I want you to stay.” 

He was surprised for just a second before joy and gratitude flooded him. Daringly, he raised the back of her hand to his lips, pressing a little kiss there. 

“Then I’ll stay.”


	33. Chapter 33

7 February 2012  
Week Twenty-Four

Ian was struggling against a sour mood, doing his best to battle it back. Rose had texted in the late afternoon saying that Jackie had wanted to go out and do a little shopping for the baby and that she wouldn’t be seeing him before pool night. He’d spent the rest of the day forcing himself to be pleasant, telling himself that they’d more than make it up the next day or the day after - _and_ they were going to see the Mousetrap on Sunday. He really shouldn’t be so stroppy about this one night. He’d lived forty-five years without Rose. One night wouldn’t kill him. 

He’d talked himself into a somewhat better mood by the time he arrived at the mansion and made his way to the billiards room. He was chalking his cue when Pete entered the room, closing the door behind him. Ian glanced at Pete as his friend walked towards the cues mounted on the wall and was able to see the set of his jaw and the ticking muscle in his cheek. Without a word, Pete pulled down the break stick and walked over to the table.

“Rough day?”

“Yes,” came the terse response, and a moment later Pete struck the cue ball and scattered the colored balls across the table. None of them fell into any of the pockets so while he swapped out his stick, Ian approached the table and lined up his shot.

“Aliens or humans?”

“Humans.” 

Figuring there was nothing he could do about Pete’s interpersonal problems, Ian sank the five and walked around the table for his next shot.

“One specific one, actually,” Pete continued. “You. I think it’s past time we talked. About you and Rose.”

His heart pounding, Ian slowly straightened. “I don’t --”

“Don’t bullshit me,” Pete snapped. “Please. I've known you for almost three damn decades and never seen you like this, Ian. It's almost like when you --"

Ian threw up a hand. "Stop right there. Whatever you're thinking is fucking _wrong_."

"How is it wrong? The only other time I've seen you even close to like this was at the beginning of you and Jenn."

"This is not the same. Rose is _not_ Jenn. Not even fucking close."

Pete snorted, but it was an unpleasant sound. “You don’t have to tell _me_ that. They’re nothing alike.”

“Exactly,” Ian nodded, and his tone had a note of finality that he hoped would end the conversation. He wasn’t quite that lucky. His best friend eyed him shrewdly and Ian didn’t squirm, but just barely.

"So you're not pursuing my daughter?”

“I most certainly am not!” Ian protested hotly.

Pete took two steps over to one of tables by his armchair and grabbed a couple of papers. Ian recognized them as red tops as soon as they were flopped onto the green felt, disrupting the nine ball. He took a step over, certain he felt much like the cat did before curiosity got the better of him, and read the headline.

_Off the Market? Presumed beau of Vitex Heiress declares himself unavailable as pregnancy rumors grow more insistent._

The words were superimposed over the bottom of a photo of him and Rose arriving at the restaurant the night they’d tried to go see The Mousetrap. She was looking up at him, smiling happily, her hand in his, their fingers laced. There was a faint smile on his face, a remnant from before they’d gotten out of the car and been blinded by the flashbulbs. His eyes were soft, looking down at Rose, and it was absolutely obvious that he was madly in love with the woman beside him. 

A smaller blurb was printed just over Ian’s jacket pocket and read, _“I’ve found the woman I want. I want Rose Tyler and no one else.”_

He felt all the blood drain out of his face and his heart pounded. He thought he might die of mortification. Had Rose seen this? What the fuck was she going to think of him when she read this? What the hell should he do?

“Care to read it?” Pete asked, snapping him out of his reverie and right back into reality. 

“I didn’t say this, Pete.”

“Someone is quoting you. A 'close personal friend speaking on condition of anonymity'.”

“That’s bullshit. Whatever source they've got is fucking lying. I’ve never said anything like that,” he protested, while a quieter voice reminded him that he’d thought so often enough. 

“Well, it’s in the papers.”

Ian scoffed disdainfully - and he hoped convincingly. “Being in the paper doesn’t automatically make it true. It’s the Globe. Nothing in there fit to mulch the garden.”

Pete didn’t acknowledge that statement. “The quote, along with your little performance at Jackie’s birthday party, just --”

“Oi, what fucking ‘little performance’?”

“You can’t keep your hands off my daughter, Ian!” Pete burst out, then took a couple of deep breaths to calm himself. Ian bit the inside of his cheek to keep from pointing out that Rose didn’t consider herself his daughter, stopping himself just in time. Pete went on. “You’re not even trying to be subtle. You were touching her every moment the two of you were in the same space at Jackie’s party. And the way you look at her... It’s clear that you’re enamored of her.”

“Oh, it is, is it?” 

“I’ve already asked you once not to bullshit me, haven’t I? You are. You’re taken with her. And everyone’s noticing. After the two of you left the party on Saturday - hand-in-hand, I might add - I spent the rest of the night having to give the family and friends version of ‘no comment’ to all of the guests. It’s all anyone wanted to talk about.” Pete gave him a moment to let that sink in. “And I’d like to know what your intentions are towards Rose."

"My _intentions_?" Ian asked with raised brows. "I’m not some fucking ASBO on a motorcycle here to pick her up for a date, Pete."

"No, but you’re twice her age and she’s vulnerable right now."

Pete was his friend, but he also saw himself as Rose’s _father_. That reminder was unpleasant but even so, he appreciated Pete’s concern and protective instinct. Anyone who defended Rose was a friend to him.

But he was also cornered. Pete seemed to know exactly how he felt about Rose, and Ian decided to tell the truth - or part of it.

"My intentions are to be whatever she’ll let me be. I’m willing to do as much as and play whatever role she’ll let me. It’s all up to her."

"And what happens if she wants you to stick around and keep playing house with her?”

He ground his teeth against the accusation that he was ‘playing house’, recognizing that that was how it likely looked from the outside. “If she wants me to stick around, then I’m by-God going to be sticking the fuck around.”

“And when the baby is born? If she still wants you then?”

Ian squared his shoulders and kept his voice level. "Then I’ll have a daughter."

"With _my_ daughter."

Ian didn’t back down. "If she’ll let me then, yes, with your daughter. She’s a beautiful, remarkable woman, Pete, and I am thankful every fucking day that she’s including me in this."

"You realize you’re old enough to be her father." It was a statement, not a question.

"I know that. Of course I fucking know that." Pete made to speak, but Ian cut him off. "I'm not going to take advantage of her, Pete, and I'm more than a little fucking insulted you think I would."

"That’s not what I’m saying."

"Sure as fuck sounds like it from this end."

“It’s just that I’ve been to the pub often enough with you and Graham when the two of you were pulling women. It’s a little hard to get that out of my head when I think about you setting your cap for my pregnant daughter.”

Angry and embarrassed for a different reason now, Ian snapped at him. “First of all, you know good and goddamn well that was mostly my fucking manwhore of a cousin. I’ve never made a fucking habit out of one night stands. Second, Rose is completely unlike any woman I’ve ever fucking known. She is _precious_ to me, and so is that baby. I would fucking _never_ treat them so lightly.”

Pete sighed and rubbed his forehead, hard. “She’s been through so much and she’s come so far. But I don’t know if she could take another heartbreak."

Ian blinked at him, stunned. "You think _I’m_ going to break _her_ heart?" Pete just looked at him blankly and Ian couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the idea. If anyone stood a chance of getting their heart trampled on in this, it was him. "Fucking fuck me. I’d gouge out my own eyes with a fucking grapefruit spoon before I hurt her."

The look Pete gave him was conflicted. "Is that so?"

Ian ran his hands through his hair absently. "Look, Pete. We’ve been friends a long time, you and me, and I don’t want whatever relationship I end up having with her to change that. But I’m not going anywhere unless she tells me to go, and even if she does, I’ll be putting up a fucking fight. I want to be near her, be in her orbit. I want to be part of her world.”

“So the quote is true?” Pete challenged, and Ian froze, feeling trapped. 

“I have no idea where the Globe is getting their information - they could be making it up for all I know, because I’ve never said that to anyone. You and Fergus are the only close friends I've got, you know that. And Fergus has no idea Rose even exists.” A seed of an idea took root, but he brushed it aside for the moment. “But Rose seems to want me around. I want to stay. I have no idea where this ‘relationship’ - for lack of a better word,” he added quickly when Pete’s eyebrow raised nearly to his non-existent hairline, “is going, but your blessing on… whatever it is is vital. If you don’t approve, Christmases will be a fucking nightmare."

As he’d hoped, that comment broke some of the tension and drew a weak chuckle out of Pete.

"I suppose it would," Pete allowed.

Ian sighed. "I fucking tried, Pete, I swear to Christ I tried not to be attracted to her. I told myself she was too young, that she was practically a child. That she was pregnant with another man’s baby. I tried to force myself to play the doting uncle role. But it didn’t fucking work. None of it did. I can’t see her as a child -- yours or anyone else’s. She’s not. And I don’t give a shit who fathered that little girl. He’s not here and I am." 

“So you _are_ pursuing her?” 

He pinched the bridge of his nose. He’d been telling the truth so far, might as well stick with it. “No. I’m not. What would be the fucking point?”

Pete sized him up and down. “I think you underestimate what you mean to Rose.” Before he could say anything - or even process the implications of what his best friend had just said - Pete went on. "Are you in love with her?"

Ian’s heart pounded. He was, of course he was, but he wasn’t ready to give voice to it just yet - he wasn’t ready to tell that truth. Saying it out loud would make it all too real somehow. He wasn’t prepared to jump when there was no net. Eventually he would. Eventually he’d have to. But not in his best friend’s billiards room when he’d only kissed her twice.

But he couldn’t lie. He absolutely _had_ to be honest in his answer. So he said, "Rose and this baby girl mean more to me than any other human beings on this planet. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for them, including lay down my own worthless fucking life. I mean, fuck, Pete. I’m standing here in your billiards room, baring my fucking soul to you because of them." Pete just sighed at the evasive answer, and Ian rushed ahead. "Really, though, can’t you be at least a little glad that it’s me and not some fucking unknown? Or some sack of dog turds like Mickey? You know me -- well enough, I hope, to know that I’m not hanging around for shits and giggles. And I’m not toying with her."

Pete’s eyes narrowed menacingly. "If you do, I’ll kill you. Slowly. Or I might just let Jackie have a go at you."

"Christ, that’s fucking harsh, Pete," Ian said, horrified, and Pete laughed. Ian chuckled, too, and when the laughter had died, he sobered. "I’d rather you turn Jackie loose on me than cause her any sort of pain."

Pete opened his mouth, then sighed. “Probably wouldn’t do any good anyway. M’wife seems to be in favor of all of this.”

Ian was stunned, completely shocked, and desperately wanted to follow that thread of conversation. But the sound of footsteps in the hallway made Pete go silent and put Ian on alert. Before he could form a complete thought, Rose was stepping into the billiards room, smiling brightly at him, melting him on the spot. He wasn’t sure if he cared whether Pete saw the effect she had on him or not. The cat was out of the bag, anyway. 

“Hi!” she fairly chirped, smiling. 

“Hey there,” he smiled back, and Rose glanced over at Pete. Ian did the same and saw that his best friend was on the opposite side of the table, looking tense. 

“You alright, Pete?” she asked.

“I’m fine,” he smiled, and Rose eyed him for a second before she seemed to accept it. 

“Decided not to play pool tonight?” she asked, gesturing towards the red tops lying in the middle of the table. Pete snatched them up quickly while Ian scrambled for something to say and Rose looked between them with a cocked eyebrow. 

“Just discussing strategy,” Pete lied baldly. “Talking about what to do with the paparazzi.”

“Is there anything new? Are they going to be amping up their efforts?”

“No, no,” they both rushed to assure her. “Just a precautionary thing,” Pete said.

Ian wanted to change the subject - both because it was very dangerous territory for him and because he didn’t want to be put in a position where he might have to lie to her - but thankfully the subject changed for him.

“Did you need something?” Pete asked. 

“Ah, not exactly,” Rose said, casting a look over at Ian, then at Pete. “I was coming to speak to Ian for a minute, if that’s alright.”

Ian saw the muscle in Pete’s jaw tick, but he gave Rose the smile that had been making appearances in Vitex commercials ever since the health drink started gaining popularity. “Of course. I’ll step out for a minute. Ian? Should I even bother coming back?”

He tried to think of some way to tell his best friend to go fuck himself without tipping off Rose, but didn’t get a chance to say anything before Rose answered for him, “I’m just stopping through on my way to the kitchen to have a cuppa with Mum. Won’t be a minute.” Her tongue went between her teeth and he melted a little. “I’m not trying to kidnap him.”

_Pity._

“Alright, then, I’ll be back in a minute.” Ian and Rose watched him leave, and Ian did his best to calm his rampaging nerves. What if she wanted to talk to him about the article? What if --

She turned around to smile at him. “Hi!”

He couldn’t help it, he practically dissolved at the sight of her smile. “Hi.”

“Are you coming back to the cottage tonight?”

He hadn’t expected that question, but was relieved to hear it. “I hadn’t planned on doing so, but I can if you like.”

She nodded, her cheeks pinkening adorably. “Yeah, I thought maybe we could look through names a bit more. You’re welcome to spend the night, of course. I’d be happy for you to.”

Ian’s heart pounded in his ears. “I’d love to, sweetheart. I’m on call tonight, though.”

“Oh.”

“If I get called out in the night, I don't want to disturb you.”

“You won’t disturb me. And if you do, it’ll be worth it. I like having you there,” she said, biting her lip and looking away. Ian thought he could fly to the moon. 

“Then I’ll stay. Unless I get called out, of course.”

“Of course.” She flushed, and one hand went up to massage the small of her back. Ian watched her with concern. 

“Is your back bothering you?”

“A little. It’s not bad, and I’m on my way to go sit down with Mum.” His brow furrowed, and she grinned, stepping forward and reaching for his hand, squeezing it. “You worry too much. I’m fine, I promise.”

“You’re going to go get off your feet?”

She nearly rolled her eyes, he could tell. “Yes, I’m going to get off my feet.”

“Will you put them up?”

Rose actually giggled a little, then squeezed his hand. “If that’ll make you feel better, I’ll put them up.”

“I’m not worried about me feeling better, I’m worried about you. Go,” he encouraged, raising his arm towards the door. “Go sit with your mum. I’ll come find you when we’re done and walk you home.”

“Promise?”

His heart fumbled over itself. “I fucking swear.”

“Alright, then,” she said with a grin and a squeeze of his hand. “I’ll see you in… an hour? Is that enough time?”

“About an hour, yeah.”

“Sounds good.” Rose turned to leave the room, but gave him a beguiling smile on her way out. “See you soon.”

He never knew what he said back to her - if anything - but very shortly after she left, Pete came back in. Ian was braced to continue their discussion, but Pete seemed to be past it. He was relieved, and the two of them played three racks, Pete winning two and Ian winning one. By the time the eight dropped on the last rack, Ian was chomping at the bit to go get Rose and take her home. But there was one last thing that needed to be discussed. 

"Look, Pete. Before I go, I need to ask a favor."

"A favor?" Pete replied, not pausing in his putting away of the cues.

"Yeah. I'd consider it a personal favor if you'd quit inviting Stockman to parties."

"Rose mentioned you’d had words. You've always gotten along, what happened?"

"Yeah, we had words. He said some things that… I just don't want to be around him." _And I don't want him around Rose._

He turned from the cues to face Ian and raised an eyebrow. "That bad?"

"Yeah."

Pete gave him a shrewd look. “Is it likely that Stockman recently made a phone call and referred to himself as a close friend of Ian Docherty?”

“Yeah. That’s my guess. But that’s not a conversation I’ve ever had, Pete, I swear.”

“I believe you.” Pete eyed him up and down for a minute, then nodded. “Alright, I can keep you two separate. And I’ll make some calls, see if I can’t determine the identity of your anonymous friend.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“I’m guessing I should keep him away from Rose as well?”

“I’d appreciate it if you would. It’d be for the best, I think.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

“Alright then,” Pete nodded. “Have a good night, Ian.”

Ian wished him the same as he practically dashed out the door and down the hall to get Rose.


	34. Chapter 34

7 February 2012 (cont.)

Rose leaned back against the head of her bed, watching Ian rummaging through his duffel bag, gathering his materials to take a shower. She had no idea what he was looking for, but if she was being honest, she just enjoyed watching him move around the bedroom. She liked that he seemed so comfortable in her space now. 

He glanced over at her, catching her watching him and giving her a little half grin. “You alright there?”

“I’m fine,” she assured him, smiling brightly and adjusting herself against the headboard. 

“Is your back still hurting?”

“A bit,” she admitted. “But --”

Before she was able to get another word out, he was leaning over her, grabbing pillows from his side of the bed and making her sit up so that he could make her as comfortable as possible. In order for her to give him enough room to work, her face had to be practically buried in his neck and she did her best to be as subtle as possible when she took a deep whiff of him. He smelled _so good_...

“There,” he said, standing up a little, taking both of her hands and helping her to lean back. It was more comfortable, her back was better supported now, and she smiled up at him. “Better?”

“Much better. Thank you.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.” He bent over and kissed the top of her hair, then went to the en suite. “I’ll be out in just a minute.”

“I’ll be here!” she smiled, her tongue going between her teeth, and her heart fluttered a little when he winked at her before he shut the door. 

She waited quietly until she heard the water come on and the sounds of interrupted spray that meant he was in the shower, then she reached down beside the bed and grabbed the tablet Pete had gotten her for Christmas, firing it up and going to the internet. She hadn’t gotten a good look at the red tops that had been in the middle of the pool table, but she’d seen herself and Ian in the photos. Even under normal circumstances, she’d be terribly curious to know what they said. But the fact that Pete and Ian had tried to hide them so quickly… well, Rose was determined to know what was in those articles and wouldn’t rest until she did. 

It only took a second. There she was, holding hands with Ian and beaming up at him when they were arriving at the restaurant the night he got called into work. He looked terribly handsome in his suit, with his quirked half-smile, and Rose grinned at the photo even now as she looked at him. But the headline demanded her attention. 

_Off the Market? Presumed beau of Vitex Heiress declares himself unavailable as pregnancy rumors grow more insistent._

Her heart raced. It wasn’t the pregnancy rumors - frankly, she was surprised she’d gotten away with her pregnancy being just a rumor for this long. She’d figured that one way or the other, the baby would be common knowledge by now. But that was nowhere _near_ as attention-getting as the rest of the headline. Presumed beau? Claims to be unavailable? She clicked the article to open it. Inside there was another, older photo of her and Ian, but she didn’t pay it much mind either. Instead, she scanned the article quickly. 

_...Dr. Ian Docherty, 45, seems to have stepped up his attraction and pursuit of Rose Tyler, 24…_

_...the two are seldom seen out of each other’s company and appear very affectionate, seeming to be touching each other more often than not…_

_...for her part, Tyler seems nearly as smitten. It’s not at all uncommon to see the two holding hands, with Rose looking up at the good doctor with bright moon eyes…_

Her eyes widened when she saw the quote from Ian: _“I’ve found the woman I want. I want Rose Tyler and no one else.”_

She read faster until she reached the end, then she looked up from the tablet, staring blankly at the door to the loo. If this article were to be believed, Ian had stated unequivocally that he wanted Rose, was devoted to her, and had declared himself off limits for anyone else. According to this, the man on the other side of that door was in love with her, madly in love. Her mind whirled, thoughts chasing each other around, trying to make sense of each other, but through it all, she felt herself beaming. The idea of Ian Docherty being in love with her made her feel feather-light, like she may float away. The very blood in her veins felt effervescent. She honestly couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so happy, and she was sure she’d never felt quite like _this_. 

Ian loved her? Could he, really? And if so… what should she do about it?

The water in the en suite turned off, and Rose heard the shower door open. She powered off the tablet, putting it away, then put Ian’s pillows back on his side of the bed. Once they were arranged, she laid down, and she was just getting the blankets sorted when the door to the loo opened and Ian came in, skin still damp, his hair curled. He smiled at her as he turned off the light in the en suite and started towards the bed.

Ian walked around to the side of the bed that they’d both come to think of as his and sat down, turning off the bedside lamp and pulling his legs up on the bed. He laid back, heaving a great sigh and letting his eyes slide closed. She took advantage of the opportunity to study him a bit more in the moonlight streaming in through her windows, noting the way the angles of his face softened when he relaxed. Somehow, it made him even more handsome - although that concept was a bit hard to believe. Over the last few months, he’d become more and more attractive to her until now, he was far and away the handsomest man she knew. 

Mentally, she slammed the brakes and backtracked to that last thought, the truth of it sinking in. It was true. Ian was the handsomest man she knew. She found him completely beautiful, especially in unguarded little moments like these. When the two of them were relaxed together, just enjoying each other’s company. 

But when the hell had that happened? And what the hell did it _mean_?

He interrupted her thoughts by asking, “Is your back still hurting?”

“A little. It’s not bad.”

He started to roll towards her. “Shift.”

She froze for a second, then followed his lead, rolling away from him. He scooted up behind her until her back was resting against his chest, and she couldn’t help the little sigh of contentment that escaped her. 

“Better?”

“Mhm,” she practically purred, and Ian chuckled in her ear, sending gooseflesh racing up and down her body. He draped his arm over her waist and Rose couldn’t help herself, she nestled her back against him a little more solidly, relaxing completely in his embrace. 

Did he love her? What if it was just the tabloids printing lies again? That thought gave her a pit in the stomach. But surely not. Most tabloid stories had a _grain_ of truth to them… they were based on _some_ part of the truth. Right? 

Rose fell asleep in Ian’s arms, her mind spinning.

~*~O~*~

Rose swam up slowly out of the murky recesses of sleep, waking up completely when she reached across the bed for Ian and her hand found cold sheets. She sat up suddenly, startled by his absence, her mind racing. Sunlight streamed through the windows and she flinched against the bright light, rubbing her eyes as they adjusted. One by one, her senses came online and she remembered the night before. Ian had been on call. He must have gotten called out. But he hadn’t come back home, and her shoulders slumped.

She looked over at his side of the bed and spotted a sheet of yellow lined paper lying on the pillow. Excited to have something from him, she snatched it up and read it. 

_3:12am_  
_Rose,_  
_I’m sorry I had to leave. Hopefully, I’ll be able to come back home and throw this note away while you’re still sleeping as I crawl back into bed, but that’s not looking likely for this case. It could be complicated, and I’ll probably be out all night. Send me a text if you’d like to do something this evening, although I’ll probably require lots of coffee and fall asleep early like the old man I am._  
_Talk to you soon, sweetheart._  
_ID_

Rose read through the note twice, her eyes sticking on the word ‘home’ each time. “ _Hopefully, I’ll be able to come back home_...” Rose knew that Ian owned his own house, although she’d never seen it. Did he consider her cottage to be home?

She looked around the room that, more often than not, she shared with Ian. Even though he didn’t technically live here, there were little reminders of him everywhere. His duffel bag sat on the chair by the closet, and a couple articles of clothing lay over the back of the chair. His side of the bed was rumpled, and he’d kicked off the extra blanket in the night before he’d left. Rose smirked - she was willing to bet that he’d been muttering half-asleep curses about how she was practically a furnace. He never turned down an opportunity to share her bed, though, even if she was just a heat generator lately. 

Rose got out of bed and spread the covers up quickly, then set about getting dressed for the day, an idea forming. There were even more little reminders of Ian in the bathroom, and she grinned a little at the green toothbrush hanging next to her pink one and the hairbrush he favored lying on the countertop. 

She stepped back out into the bedroom and walked towards the walk in wardrobe, looking to get herself dressed for the day, but her attention was caught by the latest Jack Nolan book lying atop Ian’s bedside table, his glasses folded neatly on it. She remembered when he’d dragged her to the bookstore the day it had been released last week. She’d grumbled good-naturedly, teasing him about how much easier it would have been to purchase the ebook online. “You know you can download the book in less than ten seconds, right? We don’t have to drive all over town…” The look of absolute horror he’d given her in response to that had sent her into gales of giggles. And that night, instead of watching a couple of episodes of something on Netflix, he’d pulled out his new book and sat in his usual corner of the couch. She’d smiled at him fondly, then gone to curl up next to him, nuzzled into his side and under his arm, reading the ebook version on her phone. 

She’d expected him to take his book back to his house the next day, but he hadn’t. It had stayed on his bedside table, waiting for him to read it at night. It was a small, simple thing. He probably hadn’t thought about it at all when he left it there. But to Rose, that book and his glasses felt like a promise. Their presence, along with the duffel bag full of clothes and the jeans tossed across the back of the chair meant that he had at least some roots there, with her. That no matter if he left in the wee hours and didn’t come back before he had to go to work, he _would_ come back. 

And he was over at her cottage _at least_ every other day. It wasn’t at all uncommon for him spend the night, sharing her bed, and then the two would wake up and have coffee or tea the next morning with a light breakfast before Ian went to the office. But last night he spooned up behind her to support her back, and she’d passed the night safe and comfortable in his arms. 

In the kitchen, she grabbed a bagel and started eating, knowing that Ian would fuss if she didn’t get something on her stomach, but she’d also resolved herself to go surprise him at work before she lost her nerve. She rang Henry and asked him to pick her up in a few minutes, then poured herself a glass of juice to drink while she waited. The ultrasound from a few weeks ago was on the fridge, and Rose smiled at it, taking a step forward and tracing her finger along her daughter’s cheek, wrapping herself in the memories.

That day had been wonderful, absolutely magical, a moment she’d remember for the rest of her life - and it had all been because of Ian. It should have been heartbreaking - or at least bittersweet - because the Doctor wasn’t there. But she had been surprised later to realize that she hadn’t even missed him. Ian had been there, right beside her the whole time, holding her hand. Over the last several months, Ian had moved into the role of the central man in Rose’s life, filling the void left by the Doctor. The pain of the Doctor being gone had been lessened dramatically, until she almost no longer felt it at all. Instead, she felt something very… different. 

Henry arrived and Rose explained where she wanted to go and the stop she wanted to make on the way. Her driver gave her a bit of a knowing look, but Rose was fairly lost in her own thoughts and didn’t notice.

She’d nearly kissed Ian when Dr. Ross told her that she was having a girl. It had just seemed like the correct thing, the natural thing to do. She told herself afterwards that she hadn’t even thought about it, not really. 

That was a terrible lie. Truth was, she _was_ thinking about it and had been for a while, since New Year’s. Couldn’t _stop_ thinking about it, actually, what it would be like to kiss that smirk off of his lips, to feel his hands - so gentle every time he held her hand or supported the small of her back - touch her in other places with purpose, with intent. To go to bed with him at night and not have to worry about keeping her distance or using her increasingly sore back as an excuse.

Her eyes widened. Did she… could she… _Was she in love with Ian?_

She almost scoffed to herself out loud as she walked into Ian’s building with his coffee. It couldn’t be. Could it? Of course not. That was completely improbable. Rose in love with _Ian_? No way. 

Except that she couldn’t get the feeling of his lips against hers out of her head - and the longing to feel him kiss her again. The most settled and comfortable she ever felt was when he was near. Something inside her shivered pleasantly when Ian called her sweetheart - which he did regularly. And she was dreaming of him frequently - and not always in a PG sort of way. She felt herself blush at the memory of some of those dreams. 

“Hi, Margaret,” she greeted the head receptionist. 

“Rose! This is a surprise. I didn’t think you had an appointment today…”

“I don’t. I just came to bring Ian some coffee.”

The look Margaret gave her was a bit too wise for Rose’s taste, and for the first time, she wondered if she was making a mistake. She didn’t want Ian’s coworkers to tease him about the woman that was bothering him at work. She felt herself flush.

“It’s not a big deal at all. I’ll just ring him in a little bit.”

“Nonsense,” Margaret admonished her. “Do you know how to get to his office?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Well go on back, dear.”

“Thank you, Margaret,” she said, and felt more excited than the situation probably warranted. 

She started towards the back of the building where Ian’s offices were, her heart pounding and mind racing. She absolutely couldn’t wait to see him, even if it was only for a second. And then, after work, she could have him to herself for hours. 

Was she in love with Ian? Well, she had lost the Doctor, and while that had nearly destroyed her, she’d survived - because of Ian. But if she were to lose Ian…

She wouldn’t allow herself to finish that thought. She didn’t just want him, she didn’t just enjoy being with him, she _needed_ him. Being with Ian was _easy_. Holding his hand felt _right_. She felt _safe_ with him.

Her eyes widened when it hit her. Against all logic, she was in love with Ian Docherty.

“Rose?”

She turned her head to see him coming that way, looking concerned, reaching for her. “Sweetheart, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” she smiled. _I’m in love with you._

He put one arm around her and led her in the direction of his office. “Is there something wrong? Did you need anything?”

_I need you._

“Uh, no, no. Not really. I just, um, you didn’t get to sleep last night, so I brought you some coffee.”

His eyes softened and Rose bit her lip, flushing when he smiled at her. _I’m in love with you._

“You didn’t have to do that, sweetheart, but I’m glad you did. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I also, ah, I wanted to invite you over for dinner tonight. At mine.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “You’re cooking?”

Rose giggled. “No, you wouldn’t want to eat it if I did. But we’ll have whatever you like, if you want to come over. Your choice.”

“Well, far be it from me to turn down dinner with a beautiful lady. Can I bring anything?”

“Just you,” she answered, then blushed furiously. _I’m in love with you_.

Ian chuckled. “I’ll bring myself then.” He took a sip of his coffee. “You got this just right. Thank you.” Another sip. “What are you up to today?”

The words tumbled out in a rush before she lost her nerve. “I’m going home and clearing out a drawer and some wardrobe space for you. I can’t believe I’ve been making you live out of that little carryall all this time.” Ian was silent, looked stunned, and Rose thought she’d expire of embarrassment. “That is if… if that’s something you’d be interested in or whatever. It was just an idea, you don’t have --”

“I’d love that,” he said, sincerely. 

She relaxed a little, her shoulders loosening, and she smiled up at him, doing her best not to get lost in his blue eyes. Ian reached over and took one of her hands, bringing it up to his lips and kissing it. Rose bit her lip and marveled in the fact that she was in love with this man. 

Ian glanced over at the clock and swore. “Shit. I absolutely hate to do this, sweetheart, but I have to --”

“Go,” she shooed him with a grin. “Go take care of your patients. I’ll see you tonight, yeah?”

“Sounds good.”

She wanted to kiss him, to show him just what she felt, to hold him close and never let go, but shook her head to clear it. She still had more thinking to do before she even considered something like that. There was a baby to think about. 

He didn’t let go of her hand when he walked her back up to the front of the office, then, surprising her, he bent down and kissed her cheek lightly, squeezing her hand. “See you this evening, sweetheart.”

_I’m in love with you._

Rose said something back - she was never sure what - and then practically floated out of the office to Henry’s car.


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll make you a deal. You keep giving us feedback, comments and whatnot, and we'll start posting three times a week. Alright? Sound good?

12 February 2012

Ian let himself into the side door of his house, tossing his coat in the general direction of the coat rack and blowing out his cheeks, scrubbing his face with his hands, dislodging his glasses. They’d finally made it to The Mousetrap that afternoon, and, as he’d hoped, he and Rose had had a wonderful time. The play was interesting and fun, and best of all (in his opinion), Rose’s hand had stayed wrapped in his for the entire show. 

After the show, when they’d gone back to the mansion and had an impromptu dinner with her parents, he’d been terribly relieved when Rose was able to answer all of Pete and Jackie’s questions about the plot and the theatre and all those other things he hadn’t been able to give a fuck about while she was sitting beside him in the dark, her hand in his. A couple of looks that Pete had shot in his general direction told him he didn’t have to explain his silence.

Pete had pulled him to the side after dinner and told him that he’d finally talked to his contact at the Globe - it _had_ been Stockman who had given the quote to the paper, and his best friend’s eyes had flashed when he told Ian that he needn’t worry about running into Stockman at any more parties given by Pete. Ian hadn’t been entirely sure what to say to that, but he’d nodded and thanked Pete before the two of them went into the lounge where Rose and Jackie were waiting. 

Spending time with the Tylers was always a mixed bag of emotions for him. On one hand, he was spending time with Rose, and there was no better feeling on earth than when she smiled at him - which happened frequently and melted him into a puddle every time. 

On the other hand, being so close to her, being able to touch her and hold her and kiss the top of her hair and even share her bed a few nights a week while _not_ being able to tell her that he was desperately in love with her and all he wanted was to make her happy for the rest of his life… well, that was a bit harder to swallow. 

But that was his lot, and he’d best learn to live with it. Professing his undying love was completely out of the question. “Get it together, Docherty,” Ian muttered, running a hand through his hair as he stepped into the dark lounge. 

“And what sort of hour do you call this?”

Ian jumped a mile and flipped the switch to turn on the light. Adrenaline was coursing through his veins, then he spotted his cousin sitting on his fucking couch, closing the lid of his laptop. Fergus was smirking, obviously pleased with himself and the fact that he’d scared Ian. Ian didn’t doubt that his idiot cousin had done it on purpose. Fergus clambered to his feet, grinning.

Despite being glad to see Fergus as he always was, Ian laid his hand over his still-racing heart. “Christ on a fucking seahorse, Fergus! What the fuck? Fucking scare me to death why don’t you? Jesus!” 

Fergus raised an eyebrow. “You alright there, old man? I know a shock to the ticker at your advanced age can be quite dangerous.”

Ian was fine, but figured the best way to prove it would be to continue his bitching. “I’m only eight fucking months older than you, dipshit.”

“Still counts.”

Ian muttered. “Knew I shouldn’t have given you that key when I moved in.”

“Ah, quit yer moanin’, ye banger. C’mere.”

The adrenaline was subsiding now, his pulse and respirations returning to normal. Fergus was grinning at him, and Ian stepped over to hug him. “Fucking twat,” he grumbled while smacking Fergus on the back, then pulled away and went to sit in his favorite armchair. His cousin reclaimed his place on the couch, running a hand absently through his red hair that was just starting to grey at the temples. He was dressed casually to travel, and Ian didn’t see a bag. More than likely he’d tossed it into the spare bedroom he always claimed when he stayed. 

“Since when do you wear your glasses out in public? I thought you hated the things.”

_Since Rose told me she liked them._

“I lost a contact a few months ago and didn’t get it replaced right away. Got used to just throwing on my specs every now and then.” Fergus looked disbelieving and it unsettled Ian. He didn’t like hedging the truth from Fergus any more than he liked outright lying to him. But telling him the truth - that he was absolutely mad about Pete’s daughter - was out of the question. His cousin, the renowned ladies’ man, would never understand. Beyond that, Ian had the feeling that letting people know how he felt made the situation more fragile, somehow, like too many people knowing would ruin everything. The truth had to be protected. 

Changing the subject, he said, “I didn’t know you were coming. Why didn’t you ring me?”

Fergus rolled his eyes. “I told you I was coming today last time you were home, ye bampot. And then I texted you again last week...” 

He felt like smacking himself in the forehead when he realized that Fergus was right. Ian had just forgotten because… well, he’d just forgotten. 

“You’re right. I’m sorry. But if you’d have texted I’d have met you at the airport.” It was a fucking lie, he’d been spending time with Rose and an entire team of wild horses couldn’t have dragged him away from her, but no one needed to know that. 

“S’alright, I caught a cab. My original question still stands, though. I’ve been here for hours. What are you doing coming home so late?”

“You fucking sound like Auntie.”

“Well, you know, genetics and all that rot. Were you working?”

“Nah,” Ian said, getting to his feet to grab a Vitex from the fridge. “I was having dinner with Pete and his family. Want a drink?” 

“No, ta. And you were having dinner ‘til half ten at night?”

Ian squirmed a little, internally. “We watched a bit of telly after dinner,” he called from the kitchen.

“Uh-huh,” Fergus said in a disbelieving tone while Ian strode back into the living room, taking a swig of his drink. “Anything I need to know? You about to make Mam a Gran?”

He nearly spit Vitex all over himself. When he recovered: “What the fuck?”

“You have an ultrasound on your fridge. It’s the _only_ damn thing on your fridge. You don’t even have takeaway menus there. Seemed like a fair question to me.”

“No,” Ian denied. “That’s an ultrasound of Pete’s granddaughter. His daughter is pregnant.”

Fergus smirked and leaned back, laying one ankle on his knee and threading his fingers behind his head. “Is she now? Who’s the father?”

_Not me_. 

“Oh, fuck off, cockwomble. You’ll get no gossip from me.” 

His cousin shrugged. “Alright, if you say so. But you did leave me all alone at the airport.”

“I told you. You should have fucking texted.”

“Tell you what - you can make it up to me by taking me to the pub tomorrow night after I get done with my meetings.”

Ian straightened a little. “You’re not going back home tomorrow night?”

“Nah. There’s a possibility that the meetings could spill over into Tuesday, maybe even Wednesday. So I’m here until they’re done - whenever that is.”

Valentine’s Day was Tuesday, and Ian had planned on ditching Pete and spending the evening with Rose. But if Fergus was still in town he wouldn’t be able to do that. If Ian said he was going to the mansion to play pool, Fergus would want to come along - and he’d always been welcome at Pete’s before. Telling him he wanted to be with Rose was absolutely out of the question. What the fuck was he going to do?

“You looked panicked, Ian. Want to fill me in so I can ease your mind?”

Ian scoffed. “No. Just thinking through the logistics of the next couple of days. Schedules and all that shit.”

“Right, right,” Fergus said, looking disbelieving. “Welp. I think I’m going to turn in. Have to be at headquarters at eight.”

“You need a ride?”

“Nah,” Fergus said, clambering to his feet. “I’ll call a cab, it’s no big deal. If I’m going to be darting around town a lot I’ll rent a car. I’m not trying to inconvenience you.”

“It’s no inconvenience,” Ian said, honestly. Well, except for Tuesday night. “I don’t mind taking you to the office in the morning.”

“It’s fine. I will get you to take me to the airport when I leave if you’re free, though.”

“It’d be my fucking pleasure. That way, I get to see the back of your sorry arse as you’re leaving.”

“You’re wanting to look at my arse?”

Ian rolled his eyes. “I’ve no desire to see that hairy, pimple-laden wasteland.”

Fergus yawned and stretched then turned to leave. “Goodnight, bawbag.”

“Goodnight, ye soulless fucking ginger.”

Ian had just reached up to massage his forehead, trying to make a contingency plan for Valentine’s Day, when Fergus poked his head around the corner. “Oh, and I wasn’t kidding about going to the pub and getting a pint tomorrow night.”

Ian had gotten into the habit of picking Rose up after her class on Monday, then spending the evening with her. He sensed, however, that Fergus was on a path to fuck up his plans.

“Not fucking happening.”

“Consider it a birthday gift.”

“My birthday’s not for another two months.”

“I meant my birthday.”

“Your birthday was two fucking months _ago_!”

“Yeah, and you got me fecking anti-ageing cream.”

“That was your Christmas gift, numpty. I got you an anatomically correct blow-up sheep for your birthday.”

“Oh, blimey, how could I have forgotten that?” Fergus snarked.

“Maybe now you won’t get into trouble with the McDowells so often.”

“You’re a shitpouch.”

Ian tried to look wounded. “Honestly, do you take my tokens of familial affection so lightly?”

“You owe me. We’re going to the pub tomorrow.”

“Fuck no.”

Fergus grinned mischievously. “We’ll see.”

~*~O~*~

13 February 2012

Ian had been picking Rose up from the community center at least twice a week since she’d started teaching there a little over a month ago, and he’d become accustomed to the wall of sound that hit him in the face every time he opened the door upon arrival. Today was no different, except today the center was a sea of red and pink, in honor of the holiday tomorrow. Paper hearts were taped to the walls, doilies had been glued to construction paper, cherubs made of cardstock and covered with red foil hung from the ceiling. It was a decorative atmosphere, cheerful, and while all of the decorations didn’t leave him feeling romantically inclined, he grinned to himself, appreciating the effect.

He turned to his left once he was fully inside the center and spotted Henry. The driver spotted him at the same time, and both men took a step towards each other, extending their hands to shake. 

“Dr. Docherty.”

“Ian,” Ian corrected. “Good day?”

Henry shrugged. “About the same. She had it in her head that you weren’t coming today.”

“I wasn’t planning on it, I’ve got family in town for the evening. But I decided they could… ah… wait a little while.”

The driver gave Ian a look that was entirely too shrewd for comfort, but didn’t say anything about it. 

“Does she have anywhere to go when we leave here?”

“Not that she’s mentioned to me.”

“Good,” Ian said, relieved. “Thank you, Henry. I’ll make sure she gets home safely. You’re dismissed.”

“Thank you, Dr. Docherty.”

“Ian,” he said with the tiniest hint of irritation to his voice. He couldn’t begin to explain why, but it felt important to be on a first-name basis with the man who would be taking care of Rose so frequently, and he didn’t plan to give up until Henry called him by his first name. 

“Of course, sir,” Henry said with a little bow, then left the center, leaving Ian feeling a little chagrined. 

That feeling didn’t last long, though… Rose was here and he was about to see her. He spun on his heel and looked towards her classroom, not seeing any students in there. The children had clearly been dismissed and were milling around the center, talking to other children, getting in line to play the computers, and pulling books from the reading nook. But Ian didn’t see Rose. He did his best to tamp down the prickle of alarm he felt, telling himself that surely everything was fine, but it only took a few seconds before he decided to buck his usual routine and walked back to the classroom. Just outside the door, he heard the sound of Rose laughing and he rounded the corner to find her. 

There she was with Petronella Osgood, the two of them laughing fit to burst about something, Rose even putting her hand on Osgood’s arm for support. The sound of her happiness made him feel ten pounds lighter, and he felt the corner of his mouth quirk up. 

“Ian!” she cried happily when she spotted him, and he was delighted when she let go of Osgood’s arm and rushed over to hug him in a little run that was almost-but-not-quite a waddle. She threw her arms around his neck, hugging him, and he wrapped his own arms around her waist, holding her, thanking his lucky stars. She stayed there for what seemed like a nanosecond and an hour at the same time, then stepped back, letting go of him. Her hand slid down his arm and he caught it, lacing their fingers together, beaming and wondering just what on earth he’d done to deserve such a display. 

“Are you alright?” he asked before he could help himself.

Rose giggled again, and Osgood snickered behind her hand. “I’m fine,” she said. “We were just enjoying some girl talk.”

Ian raised an eyebrow. “Should I excuse myself?”

“No, no, of course not. Don’t be silly. It’s time for me to leave and Osgood is closing up the center for the day, anyway. Right?”

“That’s right,” Osgood confirmed. “You guys go on. I’m right behind you.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay and help?”

“No, no. I’ve got it. A couple of the parents stick around until I get into my car, I’m safe.”

“Okay,” Rose said, sounding uncertain. “But I meant what I said. You text me and we’ll go do something. Dinner, shopping, whatever. Okay?”

Osgood smiled indulgently. “Okay. I’ll take you up on that.”

“You better!” Rose flounced over and gave the older woman a gentle hug. “Have a good Valentine’s Day. I’ll see you on Wednesday!”

“See you then, Rose. Bye, Dr. Docherty!”

“Ian…” he attempted to correct her, but Rose was already dragging him exuberantly out of the room. He was only too willing to follow her. 

“So, where are we going?” she asked while he helped her put on her coat, then opened the door out to the car park and put his arm around her. “I hadn’t heard from you all day, I figured you weren’t coming tonight. Glad you did, though.” She flushed a little and Ian gaped. “Are we headed out for dinner?”

“I wish I could,” he told her, walking her to the car and opening the passenger door. “Unfortunately, my evening is spoken for.”

Rose’s eyebrows were near her hairline when he looked over at her as he cranked the car, then she looked down at her hands, curled in her lap. “Got a date?”

He laughed, couldn’t help himself. “No, nothing like that. My cousin is in town for the evening and he’s insisting that we go out.”

“Oh, Fergus? I’d love to meet him! Why don’t you bring him to dinner?”

Ian nearly choked on his tongue at the very thought. Rose must have noticed his eyes bugging out because she laid her hand on his arm and asked, “Are you alright?”

“Me? Yeah, sure, I’m fine, sweetheart,” he overcompensated. “It’s just that Fergus has gotten the idea that we’re going to go to the pub tonight.” In actuality, he felt sure that Fergus would love nothing more than to get to know Rose - if he knew about her. But Ian wasn’t anywhere _near_ ready to put the two of them together. The minute Fergus laid eyes on Rose, he would know how Ian felt about her. Ian didn’t think for a second that his cousin would try to pull Rose when he knew that Ian cared about her, but Rose seemed drawn to pretty boys and, while Fergus wasn’t a pretty boy, he _was_ incredibly good-looking. Rose was exceptionally gorgeous - _much_ too pretty for the likes of Ian. She may just find his cousin more appealing, and his heart would never recover.

Rose grinned a little and squeezed his hand, bringing him back into the present. “Going to tie one on, are you?”

“No,” he scoffed. “We’re going to be staying at mine, maybe order in some pizza. Fergus loves football, so I’ll probably be stuck watching that all night. Honestly, it’s shaping up to be an incredibly dull night.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, reaching over and squeezing his hand. He curled his fingers around hers happily. “I wish there was something I could do.”

“There is. You can text with me, keep me from losing my mind with boredom.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You want me to chat with you, even though you’ll be spending time with your cousin?”

“He’ll be paying little to no attention to me if there’s a match on, and you’ll be saving my sanity. It would be a kindness, really. What do you say?”

“Well I can hardly let you suffer all night without offering _some_ assistance, now can I?”

Impulsively, Ian raised her hand and kissed the back of her knuckles, just as he was turning into her neighborhood. “You’re an angel straight from heaven, sweetheart.”

“Oh, I don’t know about all that,” she demurred, and he was thrilled to see her blush a bit. 

“I had planned to do something with you tonight, though. Since I’m having to cancel, can I make it up to you another night?”

“Absolutely,” she beamed. “Whenever is good for you.”

“Soon, then,” he said, smiling. “Very soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FERGUS!!


	36. Chapter 36

13 February 2012 (cont.)

Ian scowled heavily as he followed his cousin out of the cab and onto the pavement. Fergus went ahead, leaving Ian behind to pay. He sighed then pulled out a few bills, tipping generously, swearing profusely under his breath, and went to join his cousin. The two of them started down the pavement to the pub.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this, ye shite,” Ian groused.

“Why shouldn’t we go out? It’s a crisp night, and the city awaits us. Jolly old London.”

Ian looked around then held his hands aloft. “London! What a dump.”

“You’re in a mood. Did you bring plenty of tampons?”

“Oh, ha-ha. You’re so fucking cute.”

“Not wearing your goggles tonight, I see. Want to be extra pretty for the patrons of the Magician’s Apprentice?”

“Shut up, tosspot.”

“You really don’t have to put so much effort into it. You’re already the prettiest princess.”

Ian spun on his heel and started walking the opposite direction, grumbling, determined to go home - or better yet, to Rose’s. Fergus laughed and came after him, turning him back around by the shoulders then leaving his arm there and squeezing. “Ah, c’mon, ye wee fud. Live a little. All we’re gonna do is go inside, have a lager or twelve, check out the local wildlife, and watch a little footie. Won’t kill ye.”

There was a buzzing in Ian’s pocket and he shook himself free.

~Rose: _Would it bug you if I watched a couple back episodes of the Yard?_

Ian responded to Fergus while typing on his mobile. “I have zero fucking interest in drinking too much and ogling fucking women.”

~Ian: _not at all, sweetheart. I’ve seen them all. bored?_  
~Rose: _terribly bored. don’t know how I’ll do watching by myself. I’ve gotten used to you yammering beside me while we watch_  
~Ian: _my my, aren’t we cheeky?_  
~Rose: _aren’t I always? ;)_  
~Ian: _fair point._

“Jesus, Ian,” Fergus complained, knocking the grin off his face. “Next thing I reckon, you tell me you’ve taken up knitting for the grandbabies and why don’t I ring you more often?”

“Fuck off, ye wankstain.”

Fergus pushed open the door to the pub and made a grand gesture. “After you, m’lady.”

Ian made a rude, two-fingered gesture and went into the pub, peering around. It wasn’t such a bad place, if he was being honest. He’d been a couple of times before - usually when Fergus was in town - and, as pubs went, it was almost downright lovely. The floors and bar were clean, wall-mounted tellys played the news or, more often, footie, and the lager was decent. It wasn’t _really_ a hardship to come here with his cousin. He’d just rather be with Rose.

Unfortunately, it had occurred to him far too late in the day to be of any use that he could have offered to switch call for the night with one of the others. It wouldn’t have made spending the evening with Rose any easier, but at least he’d have had a ready-made excuse for remaining sober.

~Ian: _I’m sorry. wish I could help. Fergus the twat dragged me to the pub_  
~Rose: _I thought you weren’t going to let him talk you into it?_  
~Ian: _tried. he talked me into it anyway. we’re just walking in._

The two men went to the bar and took the two seats on the corner so they were perpendicular to each other. Fergus was looking around the pub cheerfully, scoping out which matches were where, Ian hoped, but more likely ‘checking out the local wildlife’. Ian fought the urge to groan. 

His mobile vibrated.

~Rose: _Oh. I’ll leave you alone_  
~Ian: _don’t you dare. I’d leave if I could._

“Bloody hell, Ian, you’ve got a face like a melted welly.”

“Maybe because I’m fucking miserable. Don’t want to be here.”

“Nowhere else for you to be, is there? Nah, there’s not. We’re getting drunk tonight. My treat! So fecking cheer up.” He smacked Ian’s shoulder and ordered two lagers for them. Ian just scowled.

Once the beer was delivered, neither Ian or Fergus wasted any time getting started drinking it, and neither of them said anything until both glasses were half empty. 

Fergus let out a sound of contentment. “Ahh… That’s the good shite right there.”

“You’ve been drinking shitty lager too long if you think that’s the good stuff.”

“I’ve never met a lager I didn’t like, my friend. Granted, some of them have not liked _me_ the next morning…” 

“You mean like all the women you’ve woken up next to?”

“They liked me well enough the night before. Did a lot of screaming, they did.”

“They screamed because they saw you naked. Fucking terrifying, that.”

“I think you mean ‘intimidating’.” Ian snorted and Fergus went back to looking around the pub. “Scotland National had a match today. Wonder how they did? Do you know?”

Ian laughed. "Like I've ever given a fuck about footie."

"If you had, you'd have gotten laid a lot more in uni," Fergus said with a smirk.

"Fuck you."

"No, ta,” Fergus said, smiling brightly. “I'll pass. Just like every girl in our year."

“You know good and goddamn well that’s not true.”

“Well, I suppose if you gave your right hand a lass’ name…”

“Suck shite, ye twat.”

“Your Scottish comes out when you’re riled, did you know?” Fergus looked immensely pleased with himself and Ian rolled his eyes, taking another swig of his lager and looking around the room. There seemed to be a larger number of women in attendance than he’d ever seen here before… On a hunch, he looked up on the specials board and saw the sign: _Monday nights are Ladies’ nights!_

“Goddammit, Fergus.”

“What did I do?”

"Why the fuck would you bring us here on ladies’ night?"

"How the hell was I supposed to know? You're the one who lives here. Besides… this could work to our advantage,” he said, looking around with the corner of his mouth quirked up. “I’ll bet nearly every one of these lovely ladies is on the pull.”

Ian looked around the room briefly, then turned back to his cousin. “And yet none of them are over here talking to you. Now isn’t that a fucking quandary?”

“I’ve got a tenner says I walk out of this dive with a Valentine’s date. I’ve got another tenner says I land you one, too.”

“I don’t want a fucking Valentine’s date,” Ian groused, thinking of Rose and cuddling on the couch with her.

“Oh, so you have other plans?”

“Why the fuck would I have plans for Valentine’s Day? I’ve been divorced for many years, in case you fucking forgot.”

“Don’t think I ever could. But that’s exactly why you should _make_ plans!”

On the glossy wood of the bar, Ian’s mobile vibrated and lit up.

~Rose: _need me to create a diversion?_  
~Ian: _I almost want to say yes just to see what you’ll come up with._

He chuckled at Rose, drained his pint glass, then signaled the barman while answering Fergus. “No. I’m not fucking looking to make plans.”

“Suit yourself. I’m still going to attract a suitable lass for you.”

“Oh, with what? It won’t be your fucking wit or intelligence, ye great lump. You’ll have to break out the KnickerBurner.”

“Is that so terrible? The success rate is astronomical.”

Ian shook his head and rolled his eyes, taking a sip of his beer. Fergus continued to look around the pub, and Ian could tell when he’d spotted someone that piqued his interest. Out of morbid curiosity, Ian turned and followed his cousin’s gaze to find a young woman with long brown hair talking to a friend. 

“Don’t even think about it, Fergus,” Ian told him, turning back around to his lager. “No way in hell.”

“You think I couldn’t pull her?”

“I know you couldn’t. Not a woman like that.”

“Think she’s bonny, do ye?” Fergus asked with a raised eyebrow.

Ian thought of Rose and the way she smiled at him, her tongue curled around her teeth when she was being mischievous. He thought of her snuggled against him, and how she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. 

Then he glanced over his shoulder at the long-haired brunette. “I wouldnae ride her off into battle.”

Fergus smirked at him for a second, then turned back to the girl. “How old do you reckon she is? Twenty-four? Twenty-five?”

“Too goddamn young for you, I know that much.”

His cousin fixed him with a gaze. “Oh, is that right? Too young for me?”

Ian did his best not to react, willing himself not to flush with embarrassment. His mobile vibrated and he reached for it, warmth blooming in his chest when he saw the new message alert from Rose. 

~Rose: _are you at least having fun?_

He unlocked the mobile and answered her.

~Ian: _this isn't my idea of a good time, but Fergus likes it so I put up with it_  
~Rose: _you're sweet_  
~Ian: _you take that back_  
~Rose: _nope ;)_

Ian didn’t realize he was smiling until Fergus’ voice broke into his thoughts and he felt it fall from his face. 

“Who’s that?”

He pressed the power button to lock the mobile, thanking God his lock screen wasn’t the photo of him and Rose, and looked up at his cousin. Going back to the topic of the brunette, Ian said, “Age has nothing to do with it. It’s the fact that you look like a ginger beetroot.”

Fergus scoffed. “I’m better looking than you’ve ever been and you fecking know it.”

Ian wasn’t at all interested in engaging in _that_ particular battle. He knew from experience it would only result in Fergus calling over as many women as he could and asking them to settle the debate. So he picked up the mobile and texted Rose again. 

~Ian: _he wants to know who I'm talking to_  
~Rose: _tell him I’m the bloody queen_  
~Ian: _no queen here, sweetheart_  
~Rose: _damn. I forgot_

He locked his mobile and, grinning again, set it back down on the bar just beside his pint glass within easy reach. 

“You’re seriously not going to tell me who you’re talking to?”

Ian picked up his beer and brought it to his lips. “Nope.”

Fergus clicked his tongue but let the subject drop, going back to his perusal of the women in the pub while Ian waited for his mobile to light up again.

Halfway through his third pint, a pair of women came to the bar beside Fergus to order. Ian groaned a little, knowing what was coming, and Fergus winked at him before he turned to the ladies, his brogue made thicker by the alcohol. 

“Evening, lasses,” he said grandly, and Ian could _see_ the instant his cousin flashed his signature smile at them. Fergus had discovered this talent as a teenager and after seeing the results, Ian had nicknamed it the KnickerBurner. His cousin had been using it effectively to pull women ever since. 

Both women blinked their heavily made up eyes in surprise. 

“Hello,” the blonde one said, smiling. 

“I’m Graham, and this is my cousin, Ian.” 

Ian pursed his lips and nodded a greeting while still turning his pint glass around and around in front of him, the bare minimum required to be polite. 

“I’m Natalie,” the blonde one said with a smile. “And this is my best friend, Jessica.”

Fergus leaned back in his chair a little. “Natalie and Jessica. Those are lovely names.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Ian burst out. “Could you be any _less_ original?”

“Nevermind my cousin here, he’s got his knickers in a twist.”

Ian’s mobile went off and all three of them looked at him. He just grabbed it and unlocked it as quickly as possible. 

~Rose: _Agatha has been really active today. feels like she’s kicking me in the back_  
~Ian: _you are absolutely fucking NOT naming that baby Agatha, and she very well may be. are you in pain?_  
~Rose: _it’s not comfortable_  
~Ian: _scale of 1-10_  
~Rose: _four. maybe five._  
~Ian: _Do you need me? I’ll be glad to come. can be there in twenty minutes_  
~Rose: _and ditch your cousin?_  
~Ian: _that would just be an added bonus_  
~Rose: _lol. I’m fine_  
~Ian: _don’t be a hero, sweetheart. if it gets worse, ring me. promise?_  
~Rose: _I promise._

“Cardiff, originally,” Natalie was saying. “Jessica is from Oxford. We both came to London for work.”

“Oh? What is it that you do?”

“I’m a graphic designer at Vitex.”

“What a small world,” Fergus said, giving Ian a significant look. Ian considered making a rude gesture, but didn’t want to call attention to himself. 

“And you, Jessica?”

“I’m a nurse at The Portland Hospital. Pediatrics.”

Fergus, the bastard, turned around and grinned at Ian like he was bestowing a great gift. 

“What about you?” Natalie asked, possibly flirtatiously. Ian couldn’t tell. Reading women had never been his strong suit.

“I’m the Operations and Logistics Manager for a major medical supplier."

"You work in a fucking warehouse," Ian snarked, unable to keep his mouth shut another second. 

"See how well you do your job if your next shipment is late," Fergus said with a haughty look.

“What does his job have to do with yours?” Jessica asked.

Fergus clapped him on the shoulder. “Ian here is a doctor. Damn fine one, too, for all that he’s an unpleasant prat.” 

“Oh?” one of the women said, and Ian noted a subtle change of posture in both of them. He knew _that_ signal. He wanted nothing to do with these women anyway, but their responses reinforced that and put him instantly on alert. 

“Yep,” Fergus bragged. “An obste- obstetr-”

“Obstetrician, you drunk wanker. Although you can’t pronounce it sober, either.” His mobile buzzed before he could see the women’s reactions to his job - not that he fucking cared.

~Rose: _am I bothering you? feel free to ignore me_  
~Ian: _you are never a bother and I would never ignore you. Fergus is on the pull. it’s fucking pathetic to watch_

“I was just about to drag Ian here over to the gaming area for some darts, or maybe a game of billiards. Would you be interested in joining us? I’m rather skilled at darts and this sour-faced twat could teach you to play pool. Eh, Ian?"

The memory of the night he’d taught Rose to play pool all those months ago sprang to mind. He recalled with perfect clarity the way she’d looked bending over the table, driving him barmy. The way she’d been _so proud_ when she’d sink a ball, and the way he’d had to fight to keep from staring at her and letting her father know just how mad he was for her. 

"Sorry, that’s a no, but I can demonstrate shoving a cue up a big dumb git’s arse, how about that? It’s a useful life skill. I’m about to employ it myself." He picked up his vibrating mobile.

~Rose: _are *you* on the pull?_  
~Ian: _absofuckinglutely not. I’m wishing I was with you_

"Don't mind him, ladies." Fergus lowered his voice and stage whispered. "PMS is a dreadful thing."

Ian rolled his eyes, but was relieved to note that the women seemed much less interested than they had been. “I don’t have fucking PMS.”

“Still, the invitation stands,” Fergus said, seemingly ignoring Ian. “I’ll be more than happy to teach either or both of you to play darts.”

“Thanks,” Jessica said, “but we’re meeting some friends and they just came in.”

“Ah, another time, then.”

“Yeah, uh-huh.” The two ladies took their drinks and wandered away. Fergus watched them go, smirking and apparently taking in the view. Ian just prayed for the night to fucking end already. 

“So. Ian.” Fergus gave him a look, a half-smile on his face.

“Yes, dimwit?”

"You got a bird?"

Ian scoffed, hoping it was convincing. "Don’t be a fucking moron. If I had a bird, do you think I'd be sitting here with your sorry arse? Fuck no. I'd be at her cottage, spending time with her."

One of Fergus' eyebrows shot to his hairline. "So this bird that you don't have lives in a cottage, eh?"

Ian caught his mistake and flushed bright red. "Shut the fuck up, Fergus." His cousin just grinned as he took a sip of his beer. “I don’t know why you’d even want to bother with those women,” Ian snorted. "Bints like that, trolling in a pub..."

"Oi! Don't call my future wife a bint."

“Which one was your future wife, then?”

Fergus shrugged. “Either. Both. I’m open-minded.”

"You didn't learn your fucking lesson with Kimberly?"

Fergus considered him for a moment. "...fair point." Ian smirked, having won the skirmish, then Fergus grinned. "But I'm just out for a good time. I’m not the one with a bird, now, am I?"

The smirk fell away immediately. "Go to hell."

The two cousins sipped their lagers in silence, and Ian started to be grateful that they’d come by cab and he wouldn’t have to drive. He should probably turn his mobile off for the night, though. It wouldn’t do to text Rose something too… honest.

~Rose: _I wish you were home with me, too_

Maybe he’d already _been_ too honest. 

Wait, did she say ‘home’? Ian did a double take at the message, then a smile spread all over his face.

He thought Fergus had finally dropped the subject, but he was wrong. “She have a name?”

“She?”

Fergus shrugged. “Or he; I’m not judgy.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake…”

“Really! I support you and your life choices, Ian. Whatever blows up your skirt.”

“You’re a prick, Fergus.”

“Wow. You must be really far gone on this bird if you can’t even tell me about her.”

~Rose: _do you want me to send Henry to pick you up when you’re done carousing? ;)_  
~Ian: _I’m not fucking *carousing*, ta, and it’s fine, sweetheart. We’ll call a cab._

Ian drained his glass then sat it down on the bar harder than was strictly necessary and turned on his barstool to glare at his cousin. “What the fuck is it to you?”

Fergus smirked. “Just give it up, Ian. Something’s going on with someone.”

“There is nothing fucking going on with anyone,” he said truthfully, much to his regret.

“I’d bet my house and Mam’s there is.”

“You’d fucking lose. And don’t you fucking _dare_ gamble Auntie’s house away, you tit.”

Fergus ignored that and started ticking off on his fingers. “You’re not coming home as often, you’re not flirting with women in the pub who are _obviously_ interested, you’re touchy as hell about the topic, you’ve hardly put your mobile down all night, and you’re not giving me your best snark - you’re just trying to shut me down. Confession is good for the soul, Ian. So why don’t you let your favorite cousin buy you another beer and you can tell me all about the woman that has you in thrall.”

Ian ticked his responses off on his fingers. “In order: Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, you’re my only cousin on this tiny, damp little island, and fuck you some more.”

“That’s why I’m your favorite,” Fergus said with a bright grin. “But you forgot ‘you’re not giving me your best snark’.”

“Fuck you for that, too.”

Fergus chuckled then raised his hand to signal the bartender. “Barkeep! Another pint for my lovesick cousin, here.”

~Rose: _ok. text me when you get to yours?_  
~Ian: _if you want me to_  
~Rose: _I’d like that._  
~Ian: _will do, sweetheart._

He sat his mobile down, and it went off again immediately.

~Rose: _please be safe. for me._

Ian damn near melted into a puddle on the ground.

~Ian: _I will. promise. and I’ll text, too._  
~Rose: _thank you._

He sighed. Lovestruck, indeed.

The barkeep sat down a fresh pint in front of Ian and another in front of Fergus, and Ian decided to make this his last pint of the evening. He had a decent buzz and Rose was worried.

Fergus looked around the bar. “Damn shame.”

“What’s a shame?”

“That there aren’t more blondes here tonight. I know they’re your type.”

Unbidden, an image of Rose lying asleep on her pillow, her golden hair spread out behind her head like a veil sprung to mind. 

“I haven't dated a blonde since Judith what-the-fuck’s-her-name in uni, you dumbshit, and we all know how _that_ went,” he snarked, completely forgetting that Joan was dirty blonde - not that Fergus knew anything about his relationship with Joan in the first place. 

“I remember Judith well, in fact. She was a beautiful girl. Do you ever hear from her?”

Ian scoffed around his sip of beer then swallowed. “If you had been her, would you ever have wanted anything to do with me again? After the stunt you pulled?”

Fergus grinned evilly. “You needed a way out. I provided that for you.”

“Do you think you maybe could have done it without making her think I was gay? And in a relationship with _you_?”

“Oi! What’s so wrong with me? Did you a favor, I did.”

“Nothing’s wrong with you, except you're an arsebadger and a big Ron Weasley-looking motherfucker, to boot."

"And? You say that like it's a bad thing, but Ron was the best of the three."

"Bullshit. Hermione was the best, by far."

Fergus pointed at him. "HA! I knew you'd watched them!"

Caught out, Ian rubbed his forehead. "Goddammit."

"Ye lying sack of shite,” Fergus continued to crow. “You should have learned long ago that you can't get anything by me."

"Get bent."

Fergus looked around the bar and sighed despairingly. "I'm trying, but none of these birds are taking the bait."

"Wonder why."

“Probably because you look like your favorite dog drowned.”

“Well, I’m stuck with your ridiculous arse instead of --”

Ian froze, but Fergus watched him with raised brows and a smirk. “Instead of what, Ian?”

“Nevermind,” he muttered, and his dumb fuck cousin actually _laughed._ Ian paid him no attention, just sipped his beer while Fergus watched footie. Rose didn’t text him and he refrained from texting her just to chat, thinking she may be asleep. He didn’t want to disturb her. She needed her rest.

When the third quarter ended, Ian sighed in relief as he rubbed his eyes, more tired than he'd been in a long time. "We should go.”

“Why? There’s still another quarter left.”

“Big fucking deal. Besides, I've got work in the morning and you've got meetings all day."

"No, I don't."

Ian paused with his hand still by his eyes. "The fuck do you mean you don't?"

"Things went better than expected, we finished up today about half three."

"Why the hell are you still here then?"

"Wanted to see if there was a bird in your nest."

He sat up straight, furious. “You fucking _what_?!”

“You heard me. Came up with an interesting conclusion.”

“Oh, what the fuck ever. There's no bird in my nest.”

"No, there's not, you’re right."

Ian smirked, smug and satisfied, but Fergus went on. 

"But you're in _her_ nest. Or _cottage_ , as it were." Ian felt himself flush but before he could say anything, Fergus continued. “You know, Ian. I’ve been seeing a lot of you lately.”

“Don’t be daft. I haven’t been home for a month.”

“I meant in the red tops.” Ian froze, then immediately chastised himself. He should have known, should have seen this coming. What to do?

Deny, deflect, deny some more.

“Tabloids lie. You should know that, even if you are a glaikit bastard.”

“The red tops may lie, but the photos they publish tend to tell the truth. And you’ve been in a lot of photos.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“Oh? See, I might believe that if you’d not been on your mobile all night, texting someone - someone who makes you smile like an idiot.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Before Fergus could say anything else, Ian felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around, surprised and curious, and saw a young woman peering at him like she was trying to place his face. “Aren’t you that doctor bloke? Rose Tyler's boyfriend?"

Ian’s pulse spiked. “What?”

“Rose Tyler’s bloke. You are, aren’t you? That doctor. Ian something.”

He dragged a hand down his face. "Oh my aching arse."

"What are you doing in a pub on ladies' night?” She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Does Rose know you're stepping out? She is _pregnant._ She deserves better than her bloke running around on her."

"I'm not --” he started to protest, but it died in his mouth. Instead, he scrubbed his face with his hands in utter frustration. “Jesus fucking Christ in a glitter thong."

Fergus patted him on the shoulder then let loose on the nosy woman with the KnickerBurner. She looked a bit dazed, and Ian braced himself for whatever his cousin was about to say. 

“No, no, no… it’s nothing like that, lass. All my fault, it is. See, I’m in from Glasgow and staying with my cousin, here.” He clapped Ian on the back, but Ian didn’t say or do anything, waiting to see where Fergus took it. “I talked him into coming to the pub, but neither of us knew it was ladies’ night. This walloper isn’t on the pull. He’s loyal as an old mutt.” Fergus looked like something had just occurred to him. “Smells like an old mutt, too, come to think on it.”

Ian gave Fergus a narrowed-eye glare because it was expected of him. In actuality, he was grateful to his cousin for attempting to cover his arse. The woman didn’t look entirely convinced, though, and Fergus kept going. 

"There’s nothing untoward going on, love. Rose is in good hands; this wanker won’t let her be hurt. Now if you'll excuse us, I have to get this great lump back to his nest. His bird is waiting."

She looked at Ian suspiciously. “You’re going home to Rose?”

“I’m going home to fucking bed. But I’ll tell her you said hi,” he snarked, well past ready to be done with this conversation.

The woman was quiet for a second, eyeing Ian up and down, then said, “You’re lucky to have her, you know.”

Deflating, defeated, he said, “I know.”

“She could have any man she wanted.”

“I’m well aware of that.”

“As the father of that baby, you owe it to her to take good care of her.”

Ian felt like he was dying inside, but he said honestly, “I’m doing my best.”

The woman gave him a nod and flounced off to a table full of other young women, who immediately put their heads together and started talking. 

Fergus was grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “Oh, sure. You’ll be honest with _her_...”

"Goddammit, Fergus, you twat.” Ian turned back to the bar and buried his face in his hands.

"What did I do? Besides just save your arse."

"You told that woman I was going home to my bird."

"Yeah?"

Ian swallowed, bracing himself against what he had to say. "There's no bird at my house."

"Don't start havering. Yer not that bladdered.” Ian started to argue - no idea why, he just felt the need to protest what was happening around him - but he wasn’t given the chance before Fergus flagged down the barkeep.

Ian continued to glance at the women over his shoulder while Fergus settled the tab. If they went to the tabloids claiming they’d seen him out on the pull, there was no way Rose would miss it. He expected she’d react one of two ways - either she’d be hurt or she’d laugh it off. Ian honestly didn’t know which was worse. 

But he couldn’t _tell_ her about what had happened. They both knew that they were being mistaken for a couple, but neither of them had ever acknowledged that fact out loud. Telling her what the woman had said would be a breach of that unspoken rule. Nevermind the fact he was terrified of her reaction to that, too.

"What's with you?"

Ian did his best to sound indignant and not morose when he answered Fergus. "There is now the very real possibility that the tabs are going to print a story that I'm fucking cheating on a girlfriend I don't have."

“Why does it matter what they print if there's no girlfriend to get angry about it?”

He was right. Rose wasn’t his girlfriend, and would almost certainly laugh it off. Ian felt his shoulders slump.

Fergus clapped him on the back. “Let’s get your drunk, lovesick arse home to sleep it off. Tomorrow you’ll see your bird.”

Ian may not have been drunk, but he _was_ absolutely, pathetically lovesick. For once, he didn’t argue except to say: "Just… don't go to Auntie with your stupid fucking theory."

"Why not?"

"Because there's nothing to it, and she need not be fussed with it."

Fergus snorted. "Nothing to it. Sure."

" _Don’t,_ Fergus."

"I won't have to. It'll come out on its own, anyway."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My six-year-old daughter made fanart for this story yesterday and I wanted to share it with you all. :) It's Ian and Rose!  
> 


	37. Chapter 37

14 February 2012  
Week Twenty-Five 

Rose stared down into the mixing bowl at what was supposed to be a ball of dough. But this wasn’t a ball. This was more like… a puddle. 

They’d ordered Italian food the week before, from a restaurant that was widely considered to be the best in town. Ian had been less than impressed and complained bitterly about what was passing for good Italian food. He had mentioned that his mother had been a terrific cook and how much he had loved one particular dish that she used to make when he was a little boy: gnocchi. Rose had decided to try to make it for him tonight, since it was Valentine’s Day and she wanted to do something special - even if she had to be somewhat covert. 

Rose was almost certain she’d have him to herself. Last week, she had planted a bug in her Mum’s ear about Pete taking her out to dinner for their first Valentine’s Day together. If Pete wasn’t available to play pool, Rose could have Ian all to herself. Thankfully, her Mum and Pete had taken the bait and left half an hour ago to go to some elegant restaurant that no one could get into. Rose had looked up the recipe for gnocchi, raided her mum’s kitchen for the supplies she needed, and set to work. 

Now here she was, in her cottage at 5:45pm on Valentine’s Day, staring down at a puddle of dough. 

Her mobile buzzed on the counter, startling her. She wiped her hands on her jeans absently and grabbed it up, hoping it was Ian. 

~Ian: _no pool tonight. can I take you to dinner?_

She giggled like a schoolgirl before stopping it by biting her lip. 

~Rose: _I’m making dinner, actually. care to join me?_  
~Ian: _I thought you said you can’t cook?_  
~Rose: _I’m trying to learn_  
~Ian: _I’d love to join you. can I bring anything?_  
~Rose: _a nice dessert wine_  
~Ian: _haha. nice try._  
~Rose: _can’t blame a girl_  
~Ian: _see you in an hour?_  
~Rose: _see you then! :)_

Still smiling, Rose sat her phone back down on the counter, but her face took on a much more serious look when she turned to contemplate the not-quite-dough. What should she do? It needed to be thickened _somehow_. Her mum had always used cornstarch (she thought) when something needed to be thickened, but Rose was fairly certain she didn’t have any of that. Would flour work? And how much should she use? If she added more flour, should she add more of _everything_? 

That made the most sense to her. It would be more balanced that way. Maths had never been her strongest subject, but Rose did her best to calculate the amounts she would need of each ingredient. When she was done it still wasn’t all that doughy. She could make a ball out of it, but that ball would flatten before long. There was nothing she could do about that now, though. At least the sauce she’d made - from scratch! - had turned out well and was bubbling nicely on the back burner. 

Checking the clock, she saw that Ian was due in thirty minutes. She had only had a short little while to finish making the salad and put the dessert in the oven, and she had to get dressed, too. It wouldn’t do for Ian to see her covered in flour and besides, she’d bought something special for tonight. 

The recipe said that the gnocchi only had to cook in boiling water for two minutes and she elected to do that just before Ian arrived so they’d be fresh. She cleaned up her mess, leaving out what she would need to roll and cut the gnocchi, then turned on the salty water to boil, thinking it would be a while. 

Satisfied that everything was going the way it should, she went down the corridor to her bedroom to change into the outfit she’d picked up especially for tonight. It was quite casual and she doubted that Ian would suspect that she’d dressed up for him, but she’d know better. It made her feel cute - a feeling she didn’t have too often these days - and she hoped it might catch his eye. She felt sure that the low v-neck of the sweater would draw a fair amount of his attention, and giggled to herself at what she imagined his face would look like when he saw it. 

When she was a little less than halfway through putting on her makeup, trying to hurry so she could fix her wild messy bun into something presentable, she heard a hissing sound coming from the kitchen followed immediately by the shrill beeping of the smoke detector. The baby responded at once to the loud noise and kicked Rose hard in the back, making her grunt. Ignoring that, she took off in her socks down the corridor to try to fix whatever had gone wrong. The baby continued to kick, but that was on the periphery right now. Rose had to put out whatever fire had started.

She rounded the corner into the kitchen and saw the sauce she’d made for the gnocchi, the sauce she’d been so proud of, spilling over onto the burner. Before she could decide what to do, however, she heard the door fly open and Ian came barrelling into the kitchen, wide-eyed behind his glasses. He looked her up and down quickly then dashed to the stove and turned off the burner, reaching for a potholder and pulling the pot of sauce over onto a burner that wasn’t lit. The smoke alarm still blared, and Ian went to the alarm, stretching upwards to press the button and shut it off, reaching around Rose to turn on the vent fan over the stove. All that done, he put one hand on her shoulder, one on her cheek and bent down a little to look at her. 

“Sweetheart, are you alright?”

Rose had just enough time to nod before she burst into tears. Ian didn’t hesitate, he just pulled her into his arms and started hushing her, swaying back and forth. She wrapped her arms around his torso, blubbering into his chest. He stroked her hair and whispered words that had no meaning just then, but the meaning didn’t matter. The softness of his voice was soothing, as was the warmth of his body, and she was even more comforted by the rhythmic thumping of his heart beside her cheek. 

As soon as she had settled down enough, Ian murmured into her hair, “What happened, sweetheart?”

“I tried to make gnocchi,” she told him, glad he couldn’t see her face. “But the dough or whatever won’t stay in a ball. The sauce was actually decent until it fucking _caught fire_ and…” She couldn’t go on, she just dissolved into tears again. 

Ian didn’t say anything for a minute, just held her a little closer and let her cry. When she’d calmed again, he asked, “Why were you making gnocchi?”

“Because you said you liked it. I wanted to surprise you.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he crooned, hugging her tight. “You didn’t have to do anything for me. We could have had fucking cheese sandwiches or some shit, and I’d have been thrilled.”

“I wanted to do something nice for you,” she said quietly.

He pulled back from her a little, dipping his head to look at her. “You let me come over here and spend time with you. That’s the nicest thing you could ever do.”

Rose huffed a laugh, disbelieving and disappointed with herself. Surely he couldn’t mean that. She wouldn’t meet his eye, but let out a little ‘oof’ of pain when the baby kicked her in the back again. Ian tensed at once.

“Sweetheart? What is it?”

“It’s the baby. She’s kicking me in the back again.” She rubbed a soothing circle on her back over the place the baby was kicking. “I think the smoke alarm scared her. She’s not stopped squirming since.”

Ian looked indecisive for a minute, then he took Rose by the hand and led her over to the kitchen table, pulling out a chair. Rose thought she was meant to sit, but Ian took the seat instead and guided her to stand between his legs. She smiled a little, curious, and he avoided her eyes before he started singing to her bump. The melody was soft, soothing, as was Ian’s voice, and the lyrics were decidedly Gaelic. Gently, so gently, he put the tips of his fingers on her hips and encouraged her to sway. As soon as she seemed to have it, he dropped his hands. 

He didn’t refrain from touching her for long. One hand came up to rest on the side of her bump, and his thumb rubbed it gently while he sang. Rose brought her hand to the other side of her bump and smiled down at Ian while she rubbed a little circle and swayed side to side. 

She was surprised when the baby calmed down after only a minute or so. Ian sang the song through one more time, then went quiet. He didn’t remove his hand but he didn’t look up at her, either, until she stopped swaying. When he did, she was surprised by the tenderness in his eyes, the vulnerability. 

“That’s beautiful,” she near-whispered, not entirely sure what she was referring to.

“My Mam used to sing that to me to calm me down when I’d been hurt or if I was crying for some reason. Auntie had taught it to her when she was pregnant with me and she wanted to learn more Scottish culture. After she died, I’d hear Auntie singing it while she wandered around, doing housework. It made me feel safe and loved at a time I really needed it, and I think my Auntie knew that.”

Rose was speechless that he would share something so personal with her, and wiped a tear from her cheek. “Thank you, Ian.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, his face unreadable. She wanted to kiss him, to turn her body and sit in his lap and nuzzle against his neck, but she didn’t dare. 

“This is for you, by the way,” he said reaching across the table and picking up a single pink rose that she hadn’t noticed before, offering it up to her. Rose accepted it, feeling even more tears gather. Ian went on: “Little Marigold insisted that she wanted to give Mummy a flower.”

Rose laughed, delighted, even as tears spilled onto her cheeks. “Marigold?”

“You like it?” he asked with a brilliant grin. “I was thinking of Jonquil if you don’t.”

This daft man, this daft, sweet man. Was it any wonder he’d captured her heart? It was a miracle that some other woman hadn’t snatched him up before she came along.

She reached up again to wipe another tear and hoped she hadn’t ruined --

Oh, no, her makeup!

Ian must have seen something her face, because he narrowed his eyes. “What happened?”

“Nothing, I just… I wasn’t ready when the smoke alarm went off. I have to fix my hair and makeup.”

“Sweetheart,” he said, catching her hand. “You don’t need to do anything special because I’m here. It’s just me. I’m just Ian. Yeah?”

“But I look terrible!”

“You look beautiful, sweetheart.”

Her cheeks heated at the praise. She was probably being daft and she knew it, but she couldn’t stand the thought of him seeing her with her hair and makeup all disheveled. He saw her that way in the mornings he spent the night, but that was different. This was Valentine’s Day!

“I’ll be right back.” Rose tugged her hand away and practically dashed down the hall to her bedroom. 

When she returned a few minutes later, Ian was rubbing the inside of the mixing bowl with her dish towel. She looked at him curiously, and he grinned a little. “I think I know where you went wrong making the dough, but this fucking recipe is much more fiddly than it needs to be. I can show you a simpler way to do it, if you’d like to learn.”

Rose nodded, biting her lip. “Yeah. I’d like to learn.”

He went on, “And in the very near future, you and I are going shopping for kitchenwares and staples. This is fucking pathetic. You don’t even have pepper!” Rose flushed, but he winked at her.

“I don’t cook much.”

“I’ll teach you. Yeah?” She nodded, her lip between her teeth, and he said, “C’mere.” When she was standing by the counter with the bowl in front of her, Ian started showing her his mother’s recipe for gnocchi. And when it came time to stir, he stood behind her, his hand on the spoon over top of hers, and they stirred together. 

Rose decided that yes, she most certainly _was_ going shopping for kitchenwares and staples - if it meant Ian was going to join her in the kitchen more often.

~*~O~*~

It had been a wonderful meal, Ian thought. Despite Rose’s mishap with the sauce boiling over and the dough being… viscous, the sauce was actually quite good, the salad was very nice, and the berry brulee she’d made had turned out to be delicious. It was certainly no hardship on him to help her in the close quarters of her kitchen. Their proximity, her smiles, and the fact that he’d been able to touch her a great deal - covering her hand on the stirring spoon, standing behind her to see over her shoulder so he could ‘supervise’, gliding his hand across her belly when he’d pass her… or for no reason, really - all made for the most pleasant cooking experience he’d ever had.

Ian leapt to his feet when Rose started gathering dishes, preparing to clean up. “You sit. I’ve got this.”

She tutted at him. “Ian, you shouldn’t be cleaning up dishes at _my_ house.”

He just went on gathering dishes, then walked them to the sink. “The baby has been hurting your back. You need to be sitting, preferably with your feet up. Go on,” he gestured towards the lounge. “Go sit. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“ _Ian_...”

“Not gonna talk me out of this, sweetheart. I’m more stubborn than you, Rose Tyler, don’t doubt that for a second,” he said with a smirk, washing a dish. Then he pointed a wet, soapy finger towards the lounge. “I’ll join you in just a minute. Go. Sit. Relax.”

She tried one more time. “ _Ian_...”

He just smiled at her and wished he could go over and kiss her forehead. “Doctor’s orders.”

Rose sighed. “Fine. If you insist.”

“I do.”

Rose muttered while she got to her feet and, while she wasn’t struggling, Ian could see her moving differently to accommodate the changes in her body. She brought the last few dishes over to him, setting them beside the sink. 

“I was thinking,” she started, sounding almost hesitant. “I need to start picking out some stuff for Virginia’s nursery. Would you mind if we looked at some online?”

Ian’s heart fluttered in his chest, but first, he had to protest that name. “Well, I’d love to do that, it would be my honor, but you are _not_ naming that sweet baby girl ‘Virginia’.”

She poked her lip out playfully. “You’re no fun.”

“Never said I was,” he agreed, unable to stop himself grinning. “Now go on, go. Get off your feet. Shoo.”

Rose gave him a withering look then left the kitchen - presumably to do as she was told. Ian did his best to wash the dishes as quickly as possible, then dried his hands and went to join Rose.

He found her sitting on the couch, one leg curled under her, the computer closed on her lap. She was drumming her fingers on the top of the laptop, looking as if she was terribly impatient for him to get there. 

“I’m here,” he announced.

Rose’s face fairly glowed when she turned to look at him, and he felt himself dissolving into a little puddle. Gathering his scattered thoughts and indicating the mugs in his hand he said, “I brought you some tea.”

“Oh?” she sat up excitedly, setting the computer on the cushion beside her. 

“Yeah. And I fixed it the way you like: three sugars, no milk. Like liquid fucking candy.”

She let out a little giggle when she reached for the mug, and he handed it to her carefully, noting the plaster on her thumb. He’d seen it all through dinner, but conversation hadn’t allowed him to ask. He did now, as he sat down. “What happened to your thumb?”

“Hm? Oh. I, um, I…” she trailed off, her face red. She took a sip of her tea, not meeting his eye, acting generally dodgy. “I, um, I hurt it last night.”

“Is it alright? Do you need me to look at it?”

“No, no,” she waved him off. “I’m fine. Just… anxious habit. I bite my thumb when I’m nervous.”

“Anything I can do?”

She smiled brilliantly at him. “You already have.”

Something inside him fizzled pleasantly, and he stepped past her to get to the corner of the couch he’d taken to occupying. Ian sat down, setting his mug of tea on the side table and laying his other arm on the back of the couch, the invitation clear. Rose took it, sliding herself closer to his body until her side was flush with his. She pulled her legs under her and leaned her head comfortably on Ian’s shoulder while he let his arm drape around her. He couldn’t stop himself from kissing the top of her hair as she settled in. The laptop made another appearance, and Rose opened the top of it, firing it up.

“What are we looking at?” Ian asked, taking a sip of his tea then setting it to the side. 

“Nursery decor. Bedding. Stuff like that.”

“You could hire a decorator to handle all this, sweetheart. You don’t need to decorate the nursery on your own.”

“But I want to,” she said, looking up at him, her eyes wide and earnest. “A decorator has no investment in the baby or her life, they’re only out for the money and references. I want Edna’s space to be created by the people who love her.”

Ian’s mind reeled with the potential implications. He was here with her now, curled on the couch, and she’d asked him to help her pick out items for the baby’s nursery - then stated explicitly that she only wanted the people who loved the baby to help. 

Apparently he was quiet too long because Rose shook her head. “I’m being silly, I’m sure.”

“No, you’re not being silly. I understand what you’re saying.”

“Yeah?” She looked up at him from beneath her lashes and he was dying - absolutely _dying_ to kiss her. 

But he couldn’t.

“Yeah,” he said. “I do. But I also understand that you’re not naming this baby Edna.”

Her tongue curled around her teeth. “Caught that, did you?”

“You’re getting very good at sneaking them by me, I admit.”

Rose just giggled and pulled up the website, clicking around until she got to the desired section. Once there, she started clicking on each set, one or both of them vetoing nearly everything, the rare sets that they could agree on being put into the cart for safe keeping. 

“Ugh, please, no fucking purple,” Ian complained while they looked at a set covered in butterflies. He pointed to a set on the screen. “What about this one?”

Rose looked up at him as if he was being daft. “Ian.”

“What?”

“Look at it.” He did, again, and thought it was perfect. Pillowy satin in a soft pink decorated the crib, adorned with white satin bows. Above the wrought-iron crib, a distressed white ‘crown’ hung, and from it, floaty fabric framed the bed. It was absolutely lovely, Ian thought.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“The queen doesn’t sleep in anything as posh as that.”

“You keep forgetting there’s no queen here. And why shouldn’t Azalea sleep like a princess?” 

“That’s a ‘no’ on Azalea and a ‘no’ on the princess set,” Rose said, grinning as she clicked into something else. “How about this one?”

She pulled up a set in black and bright pink with white accents. There were swirls and stripes and some of the fabric was textured and… Ian recoiled. “No.”

“But --”

“Sweetheart, I will fucking tie you down and make you use a hospital blanket before I let you subject this sweet girl to that clusterfuck.” She just laughed, and he continued bitching. “Looks like someone puked fucking Pepto Bismol all over hot tar.”

“Alright, alright. I get the point,” Rose said, giggling. “We’ll put that one in the ‘no’ column. How about this one?”

Ian stared at it for a moment. “It’s orange and green.”

“It is not! It’s pink and teal.”

“That’s not pink, that’s fucking orange!”

Rose clicked her tongue and sounded thoroughly put out. “It’s called ‘coral’, Ian.”

“It’s fucking orange and you know it. How about…” His heart stuttered to a stop when he saw the next set in the queue. It was space-themed, with planets and stars and rocketships. Dread washed over him, but he steeled himself.

“How about this one?”

She peered at it a second, then dismissed it. “Nah. It’s blue.”

No mention of her travels. No mention of the Doctor. Ian felt like he could sing with joy. 

“What about this one?” she asked, pointing to a soft pink, very feminine set. It was pretty and Ian liked it. But he couldn’t help but quirk his lip. “You see what’s on it, don’t you?”

Rose cut her eyes at him but he could tell she was trying not to laugh. He smirked. “Yeah?”

“Change your mind about ‘Rosebud’?” 

He laughed out loud when Rose turned and put her tongue out at him, then hugged her a little closer and kissed her hair out of sheer joy. 

“Do you like it, though?”

Ian nodded, even though she couldn’t see it. “I do.”

“K. I’m gonna put it in the cart for safekeeping.”

“This would be so much easier in the store.”

“I know, but the selection is so much better online. Like, this.” She pulled up the set they’d just agreed on. “I love it, you love it, but it’s not available in the store.”

“We should probably still go to the store sometime soon,” he said, hoping he wasn’t overstepping his boundaries. 

“You’d do that? You’d go shopping with me?”

He was taken aback, both by the question and the sheen of moisture in her eyes. “Of course I would, sweetheart. Haven’t I proven that already?”

Rose snuffled a little and leaned into him. He ran his fingers up and down her arm comfortingly, and let himself pretend that this could be his life. 

Speaking of delusional…

“Hey, sweetheart?”

“Yeah?”

“How would you feel about me taking a few weeks off when the baby gets here? I’ve got plenty saved up. I mean, I know you’ve got your mum just a few steps away, but I could --” he faltered, unable to come up with a reason why she would need _him_ there.

Rose turned her face up to his. “You’d do that for me?”

Ian nodded without thinking. “I want to.”

“I’d like that.”

He hugged her close again and thanked every star in the sky for his good fortune.


	38. Chapter 38

17 February 2012

Rose smiled brightly while the children queued all around her, waiting for a hug from her before they left for the day. She knew from experience that the hug that she was giving each child may very well be the only affection he or she got until they came back to the center tomorrow, so she did her best to embrace each child warmly. Impending motherhood had made her grateful that her daughter would be surrounded by people who loved her and would protect her. 

She looked out into the common area once the last child had gone, expecting to see Ian, but saw Henry sitting on the bench by the door instead. It gave her pause, although not any real concern. It was only quarter to six and she knew that Ian’s office didn’t close until five. He could have had a delivery or something that went over time, but if he wasn’t coming, he’d let her know somehow. 

She pulled her mobile out of her pocket and checked: no messages. It only served to reassure her that he was coming, simply running late. Rose smiled to herself, pocketed her mobile, and went back to cleaning her classroom while she waited. If he hadn’t arrived by half six, she’d call and check on him.

Rose was rinsing out the brushes when Osgood came in. She smiled at her ‘boss’, happy to see her. 

"So, apparently duck isn't greasy after all," the older woman said with a grin. 

"Ugh. Don't say that. Ian swears it's delicious, but I just can't wrap my head around it."

Osgood laughed. “What’s the matter? Keep seeing happy little cartoon ducks in your mind’s eye when you think about it?”

It was Rose’s turn to laugh. “No, it’s not that. It just seems disgusting to me.”

“You shouldn’t be so picky,” Osgood admonished, taking a seat in one of the low chairs. “Although, I guess if you’re going to be picky, while you’re pregnant is the opportune time to do it.”

“It doesn’t have anything to do with being pregnant, either,” she insisted. “I’ve tried all kinds of strange things. It’s just that duck seems really gross to me.” 

“Suit yourself,” Osgood grinned, then leaned back in her chair and crossed her ankles. “So, where did that gorgeous doctor of yours take you for Valentine’s?”

Rose felt herself flush bright red, and she couldn’t meet Osgood’s eyes. “It’s not like that,” she murmured.

“Oh it’s not?” she asked with raised eyebrows. 

“No, it’s not like that. But we did have dinner together.”

“So tell me about your romantic date,” Osgood encouraged in a friendly tone. 

Rose rolled her eyes, then said, “It was nothing all that special, really, I don’t guess. I made an Italian dish, something his mother used to make.” 

Osgood’s eyebrows shot to her hairline. “You cooked him a meal his mother used to make?”

“Yes, I did,” Rose said defiantly, trying hard not to blush any more. 

The other woman chuckled then said, “Alright, I’ll stop teasing you. Clearly that’s _nothing_ like a date.” Rose gave her a dirty look, and Osgood giggled again. “So what _else_ did you do?”

“We got on the Cradle website, looking at nursery decor. It took a while, but we finally found a pattern that we both agreed on. It’s really pretty… I think we’re going to go with it.” 

Osgood grinned to herself, shaking her head a little, then leaned forward and put her elbows on her knees. “Rose, I’m not a romantic expert by anyone’s standards. But I _do_ know that _friends_ don’t spend Valentine’s Day together eating a romantic meal that one of them prepared, and then cuddling up on the sofa and picking out nursery decor.”

“Well, _we_ did,” Rose answered defiantly, and Osgood snorted a little. “What about you?” she deflected. “What did you do for Valentine’s Day?”

“I had a hot date with Graham Norton and some takeaway from the Greek place not far from my flat.”

“Graham Norton, eh?” Rose giggled. 

“At least he’s funny,” Osgood shrugged, then giggled a little herself. 

“Why didn’t you go out on an _actual_ date?”

“Oh, I haven’t been on one of those in years. I wouldn’t even know what to do with myself.”

Rose was surprised. Osgood was very pretty, even if she tended to hide her face behind a pair of thick-rimmed glasses and wear her hair in a plain ponytail. It seemed to Rose that men would be flocking around Osgood, vying for her attention. 

“Don’t give me that look, Rose Tyler, I’ve seen it before. And, trust me, I've used every trick in the female arsenal. I've dressed up and curled my hair, put in contacts and crammed my feet into high heels. And it works. For a while. But this,” she gestured at herself, “is the real me, and I've yet to meet a bloke who's still interested after seeing me like this.”

Rose opened her mouth to speak but Osgood lifted her hand, stopping her. “And please don't say that I just haven't met the right guy or that you have a friend you think I should meet. I'm not looking. The center keeps me busy and the kids are great. I don't need a boyfriend right now.”

“I was going to say that it's their loss, actually.”

Osgood snickered. “Now you sound like my sister.”

The girls’ giggles were cut off abruptly when they heard the sound of tires screeching into the car park and coming to an abrupt stop. Within seconds, a car door slammed and all three of the remaining occupants of the center were on their feet. Henry’s hand was at his waist, resting on the weapon Rose knew he carried, and Osgood stepped in front of Rose, looking as if she, too, were poised to spring. Rose stroked her belly protectively, not sure what else to do. 

The door to the center flew open and both women flinched, then Rose relaxed immediately when she saw that it was Ian. But her relief only lasted a moment. He looked absolutely furious about something, his eyebrows meeting in a deep V as he scowled. He was clearly upset, and she didn’t know what to do, but knew she had to do _something_. So she pushed past Osgood, unable to help the smile that just being near him brought on. 

“Ian!” she called out once they were in the same room, and as soon as he spotted her, his entire demeanor changed. The tension in his shoulders relaxed, his face broke into a small smile and his arms opened a little. Rose didn’t hesitate, just rushed over and threw her arms around him, resting her head on his chest. She felt his arms go around her as well and he kissed the top of her head. His heart thumped against her cheek and she let his nearness soothe her, hoping her nearness soothed him.

“I’ve never been more grateful to see someone in my entire fucking life,” he murmured into her hair, holding her close. “I’m so sorry I’m late, sweetheart, so fucking sorry…”

“Hush,” she admonished, then looked up at him, smiling. “You’re not under contract to pick me up.”

“I want to, though. I like picking you up.”

Rose beamed. “I like it when you pick me up, too.” 

He was smiling at her but there was something about it that Rose didn’t like. It seemed like a front, like he was having to force himself to be happy. She narrowed her eyes at him a bit. “Are you alright?” she asked in a quieter voice.

“I’m fine.”

She opened her mouth to bicker with him, but he looked up and away, reminding Rose that they were not alone, there were still two other people there in the building with them. She buried her face in his chest for just a moment, blushing, then stepped back from him. Ian caught her hand, lacing their fingers, and didn’t let go. 

“I’m sorry I’m late, Henry, Ms. Osgood.”

“Rose and I were just chatting,” Osgood said cheerfully. “Nothing to apologize for.”

“Are you alright?” Henry asked in a more serious voice than Rose was used to hearing from him. 

“I’m fine,” Ian repeated.

“You seemed… agitated when you pulled into the car park.”

He squeezed her hand. “I’m better now. Much better.” Rose felt a swell of affection and love at his words and bit her lip.

“I’ll be happy to take Miss Tyler home,” Henry offered. “Give you a chance to cool off.”

Rose could feel Ian tense and opened her mouth but before she could speak, Ian said, “I believe I told you once before that if Rose is with me, there is absolutely no reason for anyone to worry about her safety.”

“It’s fine, Henry,” Rose jumped in, squeezing Ian’s hand. “He just needs to kick back and relax for a little while, then he’ll be right as rain. Yeah?” Ian looked down at her and although his eyes were still stormy, he looked grateful. “We’re just going to head back to the mansion and take it easy. Osgood,” she turned to her boss, “thank you for sitting and talking with me.”

“It was my pleasure,” Osgood smiled. “See you on Monday?”

“See you then,” Rose grinned. Then she let go of Ian’s hand to go get her coat. In an instant, he was behind her, helping her to put it on then taking her hand. 

Henry still stood stubbornly by the door, and Rose patted his shoulder as they walked by. “It’s alright, Henry,” she soothed him. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Henry agreed, still looking uneasy. Rose smiled, then followed Ian out of the building to his car. He bundled her in, got into the driver's seat and pulled out of the car park. As soon as he was able, he reached over and took her hand, and the two of them headed towards the mansion. 

“If I order food now,” Rose said after a minute of silence, “it should arrive not long after we do.”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart. Or we could stop and pick up anything you like.”

“I’m not craving anything in particular. Is there something _you_ want?”

Ian’s jaw tensed and his hand tightened around hers, his thumb stroking gently over her skin. “I’m not all that hungry.”

She huffed a small laugh, but really she was cursing her hormones as she fought back tears that she knew wouldn’t help anything. All she wanted to do was make him feel better, but she seemed powerless to do that. “And you’re the one always telling me that we need to eat.”

“That’s because you’re pregnant, sweetheart. It’s a little different for me. I can afford to skip a meal every now and then. I need to still be able to fit in my scrubs after the baby’s born, you know.” He squeezed her hand again. “I’m fine for now, but I might grab something later. Is there somewhere you want to stop? We’re almost there.”

Rose shook her head. “I’m sure there’s something in the fridge I can heat up.”

It wasn’t long after that that Ian turned onto the mansion’s drive and made his way to the cottage. Once there, he helped her out of the car and then took her coat when they got inside. Rose went to the kitchen while he hung up the coats, but her appetite was non-existent. Knowing that she had to eat something or Ian would complain, she grabbed a small container of hummus and some pita bread leftover from their dinner a few nights earlier and put it on the counter. 

She had just taken a bite of her little dinner when Ian rounded the corner. His shoulders were still tense and he was massaging the back of his neck, glancing around the kitchen distractedly. When he spotted her standing at the counter eating the hummus and pita, he dropped his hand. 

“Sweetheart, you can’t just eat hummus for dinner,” he chided her. “You need more nutrients than that.”

“It’s mostly protein. That’ll hold me until later when we eat together.”

“I told you,” he said with an edge of impatience in his voice, “I’m not hungry.”

Rose crossed her arms stubbornly. “Well, I don’t want to eat without you.”

“It doesn’t matter if you want to or not! You’re pregnant! You have to eat, Rose!”

She put the pita in her hand down and started walking towards Ian. Before he could say anything, she’d grabbed him by the hand and tugged him over to the couch. Once she got him there, she turned him around and pushed him so that he was sitting, then she sat down a couple of feet away, curling her leg under herself. 

“Talk.”

“I don’t know what you --”

“You came spinning into the car park like the devils of hell were after you, you got stroppy with Henry, you look absolutely miserable, and you’ve _never_ snapped at me before until just now.”

His eyes widened. “Oh, fuck, Rose, I’m so --”

“Don’t be sorry. Tell me what’s wrong.” Ian was silent for a little longer and Rose reached over, putting her hand on his. “Talk to me, Ian. Tell me what’s bothering you.”

“You don’t need to be worried about shit like this. I’ll worry enough for both of us.”

“Did something happen with a baby at work today?”

He stared at the wall for a second then bowed his head and nodded. “Kinda. Yeah.”

“What happened?”

“Rose, I --”

“ _What happened,_ Ian?”

He didn’t say anything for a minute, then sighed deeply, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “I was seeing patients,” he started in a low voice. “Just a normal day, yeah? But after lunch the nurses all started acting weird. Excitable. So I asked Clara what was going on, she said she didn’t know but she’d find out.”

Rose scooted just a little closer to him. “Did she find out?”

“Yeah, but I found out first. Just by some fucking fluke, I had to take some paperwork up to the front desk. I never have to do that. But I did, and when I got up there, I heard a woman fucking shouting for me. ‘ _I need to see Dr. Docherty! Somebody get Dr. Docherty!_ ’ I go out front to see just what the hell was going on, and it was a patient of mine from the clinic.

“She comes running over and grabs my arm as soon as she sees me, and she’s fucking crying. Margaret and some of the others were threatening to call security, and I told them to fuck off. The mother says her baby has stopped moving and she just knows something is wrong. Well, the nurses that were trying to calm her down; they kept telling her that she’s thirty-six weeks, and fetal movement is _supposed_ to slow down. Which is true, but I’m a strong fucking believer in a mother’s intuition and I’ve been dealing with this mother for several years. This isn’t her first pregnancy, and I took care of her the first time, too. I knew if she was in the middle of a posh clinic making a scene and screaming that something was wrong with her baby, I needed to take her seriously.”

Rose nuzzled closer to him, sensing he needed the comfort of her proximity, and he kissed the top of her head absently before he went on. 

“I sent for Clara and we got her back into ultrasound room. Clara was doing her best to calm the mother down and so was I. She finally started to settle just a little. We put the fetal monitor on her and the baby’s heartbeat was good, but she was having decels.”

“Decels?”

“Decelerations. The baby’s heart rate slowed down every time the mother moved.”

“Oh no.”

“That’s bad news, so we did an ultrasound really quickly to make sure of what we were dealing with. The baby had the cord around her neck.”

Rose gasped, her hand going to cover her belly, and tears sprang to her eyes in sympathy for the poor woman. “What did you do?”

“We rushed her next door and did an emergency c-section.”

“Did they --”

He nodded and gave her the tiniest of smiles. “Mother and baby are both doing fine. Baby was a little small, but not alarmingly so. Her lungs were in good shape. That’s the important thing.”

“So you saved the day,” she said, smiling, wiping her cheeks. 

“Yeah, and then I went back and fucking ruined the day of everyone in that office,” he said darkly.

“What do you mean?”

His voice was much harder now; and although Rose could tell it was not directed at her, she could still hear anger there. “I was furious already. There was no excuse for a terrified, pregnant woman to stand in the lobby of an obstetrician’s office and get no help. So I went back to the office and fucking demanded to know just what the fuck had happened. Who dropped what ball where? That’s when I hear about how ‘she didn’t have an appointment’ and ‘she wasn’t a patient of this practice’ and ‘she was disrupting the regular patients’. I couldn’t believe what I was fucking hearing. Then they told me - as if this would fucking make it better - they told me that they’d offered her bus fare back to the estates and reminded her that the clinic there would be open tomorrow. That she should put herself on bed rest until she was able to see me at the clinic.”

Rose gasped. Ian didn’t acknowledge her.

“Once the front office staff were done telling me all this, I unleashed hell. I just… I let them fucking have it, Rose.”

“Sounds like they deserved it.”

“I said a lot - not one word of which I regret - but the bottom line is that we’re not in the business of making money. We’re in the business of taking care of women and babies.”

Rose looked up at Ian, and the tension was written all over his face. His free hand was threading through his hair over and over, his eyes were closed and his brow was knit. The day obviously still weighed on him, and seeing him in such a state weighed on Rose. She bit her lip in indecision, working up her courage. Coming to a decision, she extricated herself from his arms and scooted back towards the other side of the couch before she lost her nerve.

“Sweetheart?” He looked hurt and confused, almost stricken by her perceived abandonment.

“Come here.”

He tilted his head to the side. “Come here?”

“Yes. Come here and put your head in my lap. I’ll rub it.”

Ian smirked at her, and she felt the now-familiar fluttering in her chest. “You barely have a lap anymore, sweetheart.”

“Oh, ha-ha,” she said with a sour look. “It’s fine. If you don’t want to --”

“No, stay there.”

He started moving around on the sofa until he was lying flat, resting his head in her (admittedly smaller) lap. Rose smiled down at him and started running her fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp a little bit, and she laid her right hand on his chest. Ian covered it with his hand and curled his fingers around hers. He closed his eyes, letting out a little moan, and she grinned.

“Feel good?”

“Mhm.”

“Good.”

Then he turned and put his mouth right next to Rose’s belly. He pressed a light kiss to it, then said, “Thank you for sharing mummy’s lap with me.”

Rose giggled, but then both laughed out loud when the baby squirmed. 

Ian’s eyes were wide and bright, full of joy. “Did you feel that?” he asked Rose, beaming. She laughed and nodded, and Ian turned to Rose’s belly. “Did you hear me, little girl? Do you like hearing me talk to you?”

To Rose’s amazement, the baby wiggled a little more. 

“I think she likes you,” Rose said, happier than she could remember being in a long time. 

Ian brought one hand up to rest on the side of Rose’s tummy and started speaking to the baby in what she thought was Italian. It was beautiful, lyrical, and although she didn’t know what he was saying, she was still moved. 

Rose cocked an eyebrow at him. “What are you saying to her?”

He raised an eyebrow right back. “Well that’s between me and her, now, isn’t it?” Ian didn’t wait before he started speaking to her again. “ _Sei così preziosa, piccola, sei come un sogno che è avvenuto. Tua madre e ti amo tanto._ ” Then he pressed a sweet kiss to her bump, smiling and stroking her belly when the baby wiggled some more. Rose played with his hair, smiling down at him and wondering how it came to be that everything she wanted in the universe was in her lap at that moment.


	39. Chapter 39

18 February 2012

For the first time since he could remember, the alarm going off beside Ian’s head didn’t make him want to commit some sort of crime against humanity. He felt… rested. Comfortable. Happy. He wondered about that for a minute, blinking against the sunlight streaming into the room, then he felt the bed shift on his left side. He was startled for just a second before his face split into a smile. 

_Rose_.

He turned off the alarm and, beaming, rolled over and put his hand on her belly. “Good morning, sweetheart.”

Rose grunted something unintelligible that made Ian chuckle, but she covered his hand with hers, anyway. 

He rubbed his thumb on her tummy. “And good morning to you, too, Little Face.”

The baby squirmed under his hand, making him feel like he could fly away, but Rose grunted. 

“You know, every time you talk to her, she kicks me.”

“Does it hurt?”

“No.”

“Then get used to it.” 

She swatted him and he laughed heartily, pulling her into his arms and holding her close, glorying in the way she nuzzled into him sleepily. He kissed her hair just because he couldn’t help it and she sighed. 

“What time do you have to be at the clinic?” 

The day before came back in a rush: Mrs. Baker showing up in the office and getting no help, having to do an emergency c-section, then venting his spleen on  
his staff. His stomach churned, thinking about the next few days of work. He did not want to deal with that shit, and was tempted to just say ‘fuck it’.

Then Rose yawned and made a sleepy little movement, reminding him of just why he did what he did. He couldn’t leave the clinic to its own devices. Those women needed care - _quality_ care. They needed someone to give a damn about them. And that’s what he’d promised to do twenty years ago. 

Ian sighed. That had been a lot easier promise to make two decades ago. He hadn’t known Rose then. Now he was faced with getting out of her bed and just… _Fuck_.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. Always so perceptive. 

“I don’t want to go to work. I think I’m just going to stay here in bed with you all day.”

Rose giggled. “No, you’re not.”

Ian grinned, happy to have made her laugh. “I think so, actually. We can just lay in bed all day and watch the shadows cross the floor.”

“ _You_ have to go to work, mister.”

“Nope,” he said, still grinning, tightening his arms around her. “Gonna stay right here.”

Through giggles, Rose said, “You _have_ to let go of me and get out of bed. This baby is jumping on my bladder.”

Ian’s eyebrow went up and his grin was truly evil. “Oh she is, is she?” 

Rose shrieked when he tickled her sides, and Ian laughed. She wrestled him, trying to get away, until finally she put her feet on his sides and pushed him until he almost fell off the bed. He regained his balance and looked over at her in time to see her scrambling off the bed, dashing to the en suite. But she did slow down long enough to grab a pillow and swat him in the head with it as she passed by, calling him a prat with a twinkle in her eyes. 

He laughed long and hard, then got up and started getting ready to go to work.

~*~O~*~

Ian heard the office door close and a tentative call come from down the hall. “Doctor?”

“In here, Bill.”

She slowly appeared in the doorway, her expression anxious. There was none of the playful bravado that had surrounded her when he’d visited the clinic the previous month. Obviously Clara had related to her what had happened the day before.

Ian sighed and gestured her closer. “It’s fine. You can come in.”

“I heard Mrs. Baker’s doing well,” she offered, ducking her head a bit as she stepped forward.

He nodded then pushed Mrs. Baker’s patient file across the desk. “Updated. I didn’t want to put it away before you got here because I know how picky you are about your file cabinets.”

Bill shrugged as she opened the file and reviewed the additions he’d made. Then she picked it up and hugged it to her chest. “I’ll just keep it on my desk. I’ll need it again on Monday after you discharge her from the hospital.”

She paused and Ian could tell she was navigating a minefield in her mind. “What is it?”

“How are you? Clara said it got ugly over there yesterday.”

“I’m --”

“Don’t you dare say you’re fine. You and I both know that’s a lie.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, but there was only playful exasperation in them. “I was going to say that I’m getting better.”

Bill grinned and bounced a little on the balls of her feet. “Now I _know_ I need to meet Rose, if she’s that good for you.”

Ian couldn’t help his own grin as he shooed her out of his office, “Go away, Bill. We’ve got a clinic to open.”

She practically skipped out of his office, only stopping long enough for one more parting shot. “If you decide heads need to roll at that fancy office of yours, I wouldn’t mind trading up.”

“Good lord,” he gasped, “you and Clara in the same office? I’d never survive.”

The only thing he heard in response to that was Bill giggling as she made her way down the hall to her own office. Soon after, the rest of the staff arrived and they opened the doors to the clinic, and Ian was able to lose himself in the joyful part of his job.

He was in with a patient several hours later when he felt his mobile buzz in his pocket. When he was finally able to pull it out and look at it there was a message from Rose.

~Rose: _how about ‘Eleanor’?_

 _Eleanor Docherty_ , he liked the sound of that.

~Ian: _I like it. Put it on the list. ___  
~Rose: _...since you won’t let me name the baby Gertrude… ;)_  
~Ian: _never gonna happen_  
~Rose: _:)_

__It was only then that he realized what he’d done. He leaned against the wall and dragged a hand down his face. _Fuck_._ _

__Eleanor _Tyler_ was nice, too._ _

____

~*~O~*~

19 February 2012

Rose made her way up the garden path to the Mansion, letting herself into the house and tossing her coat on the rack. There was a heavenly smell coming from the general direction of the kitchen - she thought it smelled like beef and mushroom pie. Her stomach growled, but it put her instantly on alert, too. Beef and mushroom pie was her favorite, and her mother had always traditionally made it as a comfort food. It being on the menu tonight made Rose worry that she may also be about to be served bad news. Wildly, she wished for Ian. 

Everything seemed normal, though, through dinner, and Rose found herself enjoying the meal and conversation. While she still didn’t trust him completely, she found herself warming to Pete slowly, over time, and even able to enjoy his company on occasion. All in all, she was enjoying the evening with her mum and Pete, and the only thing that could have made it better would have been if Ian could have been there. She didn’t say anything to that effect, but it seemed like her mum read her mind anyway.

“I’m surprised himself isn’t here,” Jackie commented, cutting off a slice of the cake she’d prepared as a dessert then passing the plate to Pete. “He have a baby to deliver?”

“No, he’s at home,” she answered, feeling a pang when she did. She missed him terribly when he wasn’t around. Defiantly, though, she said, “We don’t spend _all_ our time together, you know.”

Jackie gave her a look, and Rose refrained from squirming with great effort. The baby had no such compunction, though, and shifted herself around, pressing against Rose’s back and making her cringe.

“Is the baby hurting you again?”

“She’s not hurting me, really, it’s just that some ways she moves are uncomfortable.”

“You’re doing too much,” Jackie declared. “You should be resting more, instead of working at that center every day.”

“Plenty of women work right up until their due dates, Mum. I’m not doing anything too taxing,” Rose explained patiently for what felt like the thousandth time. “I’m only there every other day and every other Saturday.”

“That’s still too much in your delicate condition,” her mother huffed, and Rose rolled her eyes.

“Well, Rose, while we’re on the subject of the baby, I need to talk to you,” Pete broke in. “Need to ask you something.”

“Ask me what?” she asked, feeling a prickle of alarm. 

“You know Torchwood has been monitoring your pregnancy, for obvious reasons. We’ve been trying to do it from afar, to give you all the space necessary for you to have a normal pregnancy experience, like any other woman. My understanding is that everything is progressing perfectly normally, and there’s nothing to be concerned about.”

“Good,” she said, not entirely soothed by his words. “So why are you bringing it up now?”

“Because we’d like for you to come in,” he said simply. “Our xenobiologist would like to get another look at you and at the baby, just to see that things are going well.”

“And how would you do that?” she challenged him, her voice rising along with her growing sense of alarm. “Last time I was at Torchwood, you didn’t even have an ultrasound machine.”

Pete chuckled. “We have one now, and the expertise to use it. Dr. Staples has spent hours upon hours training.”

Rose didn’t answer right away, wishing with all her heart that Ian were here so he could weigh in. 

“Nobody is going to hurt the baby, Rose, I won’t allow it,” Pete assured her. “Remember, as far as everyone at Torchwood is concerned, you’re the Director’s daughter. That affords you a bit more of the kid glove treatment.”

She still didn’t say anything, but looked over at her mother, who nodded, then back at Pete. 

“Why can’t you get the information you need from my records with Dr. Ross?”

“There are things that Dr. Ross wouldn’t know to look for. Biological signatures and whatnot. Dr. Staples knows what he’s looking for.” 

She bit her lip and rubbed a soothing circle on her belly, her mind reeling. 

“I’m not going to force you to do this, Rose,” Pete said gently. “No one is going to make you do anything. But it would be a good thing for us to examine you and the baby. The more we know, the better prepared we can be for her.”

“I’ll do it,” she said abruptly, decisively, and Pete smiled. Then Rose finished. “But only if Ian can go along and be with me.”

Jackie pursed her lips and ducked her head like she was trying to hide a laugh, and Pete’s expression was a bit dumbfounded. 

“Ian?”

“Yes, Ian.”

Pete finally recovered and grinned. “That really won’t be necessary…”

“It’s completely necessary if you want my cooperation,” Rose said in a firm voice. “I’m willing to do what you ask, but I want Ian with me. That’s my stipulation and it’s non-negotiable.” 

“You want Ian.”

Rose nodded. “Yes. I want Ian,” she said, and tried not to think about just how true that statement was in how many ways.

After just a moment, Pete shrugged and threw up his hands. “Alright, then. If you want Ian, you get Ian.”

Rose just smiled.

~*~O~*~

21 February 2012

Ian and Rose sat in Christine’s exam room, waiting for her to come in. Rose had told Ian about the exam Torchwood wanted to do, and that she’d told Pete she’d only go along with it if he went with her. He’d been surprised, then thrilled that she trusted him so much. But his overall sense was unease. He didn’t think that Pete would intentionally put Rose in danger, but something still made him uncomfortable with the idea. He was glad she’d insisted he be allowed to go with her, because there was no way he’d let Rose go to that appointment on her own. 

For now, though, he sat in the chair beside the exam table, his fingers wound with Rose’s, the two of them chatting about names. 

“And you’re sure you don’t like Sadie?”

“I like Sarah better.”

Rose’s look got far away, the way it always did when she thought about the Doctor. “I knew a Sarah. She was a wonderful lady. I wouldn’t mind that name.”

Ian decided right then that if this Sarah did have anything to do with the Doctor, he was going to become suddenly opposed to the name. Changing the subject, he said, “What about the name you sent me a couple of days ago at work? Eleanor?”

She smiled and nodded. “Eleanor. I like it.”

Truth be told, Ian did, too. Quite a lot. “Yeah?” he asked while playing with her fingers idly.

“Yeah,” she smiled, then bit her lip. “Maybe we should put it on the short list.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but there was a short knock at the door just before it opened and Christine came in, looking down at Rose’s chart. 

“Good morning, Rose,” she smiled. “How are we feeling?”

“Good! Nothing new to report.”

Christine looked down at his hand still wrapped around Rose’s and shot him a quick, dirty look before she went back to Rose. “Nothing unusual?”

Rose shook her head, then turned and looked at Ian. “Everything’s been fairly normal, hasn’t it?”

“Perfectly normal,” he agreed, ignoring the expression on Christine’s face. 

“Well let’s just lay back and get a listen to this little girl.” They helped Rose lay back and she pulled her shirt up, exposing her adorable, round tummy. Ian had to fight the impulse to kiss it, to talk to the baby and feel her squirm. 

But he didn’t, and Christine brought out the doppler, listening to her heartbeat. That done, she palpated Rose’s uterus, prompting the baby to kick, and Ian couldn’t help but be proud of her for pushing back when her little world was being messed with. 

After Christine measured Rose’s belly, she brought Rose’s shirt back down and the two of them helped her sit up. Rose gave Ian a shy smile, and he couldn’t help but smile back. 

“Everything looks good,” Christine was saying. “Heart rate and growth are right on target and she’s obviously very active. Does she respond to voices yet?”

Rose nodded excitedly, beaming. “She moves around for me sometimes, but she really gets excited when Ian talks to her.” 

Christine pursed her lips. “Mm-hmm. It’s good that she’s recognizing the voices of her family.”

Ian braced himself for Rose to deny that he was family, but she didn’t and he was afraid to look at her. He just prayed for a change of subject. 

Unfortunately, he got one. 

“When do you start birthing classes?”

Ian swore under his breath and looked over at Rose, who looked wide-eyed. “We, um, we haven’t signed up for any yet.”

Christine didn’t try to be the least bit covert when she gave Ian a look. “You know better, Docherty. She needs to be _finished_ with classes by thirty-four weeks, and there are waiting lists!”

“It was an oversight, alright? Jesus fucking Christ. I’ll take care of it,” he snapped. “She’ll be enrolled by tomorrow. We’ll decide on a class at lunch.”

Ian knew Rose well enough to know that she didn’t like being talked around like that, but this time she didn’t say anything. 

Christine just shook her head and rolled her eyes, then turned to Rose and smiled again, all her irritation apparently reserved for Ian. “Everything looks good. Here’s another copy of the list of classes the hospital offers. You make sure he gets you enrolled in one, alright?” Rose nodded and Christine patted her shoulder. “See you next time.”

Ian grumbled to himself for just a minute, then got to his feet, gave Rose a bright smile and helped her down from the exam table. “Ready for lunch, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” she smiled at him. “Is there anything you need to do?”

“Just get us enrolled in a class, apparently,” he said, dry, but Rose giggled and it brightened him. 

Fifteen minutes later, they were sitting in a little cafe and had just ordered their lunch when Rose pulled out the list of childbirth classes and laid it between them. 

“I’ll be honest,” she started, looking down at the list, then up at him, “I have no idea what I’m looking at or what I should do.”

“Well,” Ian said, taking a sip of his tea, “a lot of it depends on what you want your birth plan to look like.”

“My birth plan?”

“Yes. What do you want to happen when you go to the hospital?”

“I want to have a baby.”

He narrowed her brows at her. “Cheeky.”

Rose just giggled. “But really. I don’t have any real plan as of right now. That might change, but for now, I just want to have a healthy baby. That’s all I care about.”

“Alright then, which class do you want to take?” He and Rose both leaned over to look at the list. “For first time mothers, there’s ‘A Natural Childbirth’, ‘Birth and Baby’, and the Waterbirth class.”

“What’s waterbirth?”

“Just what it sounds like. You labor in a big tub and give birth to the baby underwater.”

Rose raised her hand and made a warding-off gesture. “Pass. What else?”

Ian grinned at her. “Well, you don’t need a refresher course, or a class for big siblings.”

“No,” she agreed, and there was something to her voice he didn’t quite understand. 

“There’s a Baby and Me class that’s basically newborn care, and --” His eyes landed on ‘Boot Camp for New Dads’ and he felt his chest contract. 

“And what?” Before he could stop her, Rose had leaned forward and saw what he was looking at. She flushed, but he couldn’t meet her eyes just then. He didn’t want her to see the longing in them. 

"Why don't you just pick one that won't conflict with your schedule?” she offered. “I'm sure that will be fine."

“Is that what you want?” 

“Yeah,” Rose said, finally looking at him again. “I’m sure you know the teachers and everything, right? You know which class is the best.”

“I have ideas, yeah.”

“Go ahead and enroll us under whichever teacher or class is the best and whatever time fits your schedule.”

“Alright, sweetheart, if that’s what you want.”

“Yeah,” she said, then smiled a little, almost shyly. “I mean, as long as you’re there, I know everything’ll be fine.”

He started to answer - even though he wasn’t sure what to say - but the waitress brought their food and the two of them tucked in.

~*~O~*~

Forty-five minutes later, Ian was strolling into his office, pulling off his winter coat and putting on his lab coat.

“Clara!” 

Clara poked her brown head around the corner. “Yeah, boss?”

“I need you to call over to the hospital and get us into one of Kelly Martin's childbirth classes, preferably ‘Birth and Baby’. The first available spots. And make sure it’s Kelly teaching. Do favors and pull strings if you have to."

"...' _us_ '?"

Ian gritted his teeth. "Yes, ' _us_ '. Rose is taking the class. I’m going as her coach."

Clara bit her lip, but that didn’t hide her huge smile or the sparkling in her eyes.

He sighed, rolling his eyes. "Go the fuck away, Clara."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays from RishiDiams and Caedmon! 
> 
> December 25, 1974
> 
> Ian sat outside the kitchen on Christmas evening, dejectedly rolling one of the two matchbox cars that had been gifted to him by his Uncle’s sister, Gloria, crashing it against the unwanted box of toffee given to him by his Uncle’s mother. 
> 
> It had been a relief when Santa still showed up at his Uncle and Auntie’s house that morning, even though Ian thought surely he must be on the naughty list. Why else would his parents have died in that stupid car crash, forcing his aunt and uncle to take him in? And then there’d been him starting at a new school and having to defend himself against the kids who didn’t know him and felt the need to give him a trial by fire, so to speak. His cousin, Graham, had used up scads of social capital to keep him out of fights. Ian, for his part, was always ready to swing a punch - especially since that fateful night in May when his Da lost control of the car. But Santa didn’t like fighting.
> 
> Now he was here at Graham’s Gram’s house (he grinned a little in spite of himself at the rhyme) and it seemed his naughty list behavior had caught up with him. Before Ian had come along, Graham had been the only child in the family and it was clear that he had been showered with love and gifts. He still was, but it was equally clear that Ian was viewed as a hanger-on. A tagalong. No one said anything, of course, but the gifts had told the tale. Ian was rolling his two matchbox cars on the hardwood floor while Graham was in the lounge with his Da, building the magnificent garage he’d unwrapped from his aunt. He tried not to be bitter, he really did, especially towards Graham. His cousin was his best friend and had been as long as he could remember. But… Ian sighed. It was just so unfair.
> 
> Auntie Grace stormed out of the lounge and right by him without looking down, her jaw set, her eyes blazing. He’d never seen her look quite that upset, not even when he and Graham had used her hat pins to dissect the dead frog they’d found, and he couldn’t help but be curious. 
> 
> “Just what do you think you’re playing at, Gloria Fitzgerald?” she snapped from the room behind him. “And you, too, Mrs. Fitzgerald?” It was jarring to hear his soft-spoken Auntie using that tone, and he leaned a little closer to the door.
> 
> “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
> 
> “Would you like to tell me about the disparity in the gifts between my two children?”
> 
> “You have one child, dear,” Graham’s Gram pointed out. 
> 
> “I have two,” Auntie said stoutly.
> 
> “ _One_ ,” Aunt Gloria insisted. “You have a son and you’ve taken in an orphan.”
> 
> “That _orphan_ is my dead brother’s son, if I may remind you.”
> 
> “Yes, and it was awfully good of you to take him in --”
> 
> “I didn’t just take him in, Mrs. Fitzgerald. I’m doing what my brother and sister-in-law would have me do. I’m raising him. He’s my son. He’s Dougan’s son. Which makes him _your_ grandson. And _your_ nephew.”
> 
> “He’s a Docherty!” Gloria scoffed. “Surely you don’t expect --”
> 
> “I expect each of you to treat my children the same. Either conduct yourself as if you have _two_ grandsons and _two_ nephews, or don’t have anything to do with us at all!”
> 
> The firm clack of heels came towards where Ian was sitting and he made himself smaller, not wanting to be seen just then. Once Auntie had breezed by, he looked up and saw Graham standing over him. 
> 
> “Why do you look so surprised, you dip?”
> 
> “Your mam --”
> 
> “I heard her. But why do you look so surprised? Thought you knew. You’re my brother, and I’m glad.” He shrugged as if he had simply stated fact. 
> 
> It was with some surprise that Ian realized he had done exactly that. Graham was his brother. That was a fact. And in the spirit of brotherhood…
> 
> “If you call me a dip again, I’m telling Auntie.”
> 
> “If you do, ye wee clipe, I’m telling her about what you did with her wellies.”
> 
> Ian shut his trap.
> 
> “C’mon, bampot. Let’s go build that garage. Da says we can leave it in the lounge at home so both of us can play with it anytime we want and it’ll be both of ours. Yeah?”
> 
> Ian clambered to his feet and followed his best friend and brother, smiling.


	40. Chapter 40

23 February 2012

Ian stepped into the door of his house and threw his keys on the side table, closing the door behind him. He let his body sag against the door for a second, leaning his head backwards to rest against the wood and letting out an expansive breath. He was tired - that kind of tired that goes well beyond being sleepy. He was drained. 

It wasn’t that it had been a horrible day; it really hadn’t been that bad. His day at the office hadn’t been unusual, no real challenges or problems, but when he got off of work, he’d had to go over to the hospital and have dinner with a couple of the other Board members, then attend an actual Board meeting. Several of the Board members weren't even doctors at the hospital, they were just members of the public: rich, influential men who always brought their wives to the meetings. It was exactly what Jenn had wanted: to socialize with the wealthy donors and benefactors for the hospital, yet it was the part of Ian’s job he hated the most. He comforted himself with the knowledge that the schmoozing he was doing was improving the lives of women and babies, but that didn’t make it any more palatable. Not really. He suspected that the socializing and networking he was forced to do would be easier if he wasn’t a single man, but, well, there was nothing to be done about that.

The annual Awards Gala (or whatever the fuck it was officially called) was coming up and, as rotten luck would have it, it was going to take place on his birthday this year. Ordinarily that wouldn’t be such a big deal, but this year he’d hoped to spend the day with Rose. He’d be more than happy to take her with him, oh, he’d be so fucking proud to have her on his arm, but he wasn’t sure he could ask her. They’d gotten closer - much closer - but he was still afraid of misreading the entire situation and ruining everything. He’d never fucking forgive himself if he somehow ran her off. 

With that cheerful thought, he raised his head from the door and looked over at the clock on the microwave. Too late. The Yard was already well over, and he honestly didn’t feel up to watching something that made him think, anyway. Rose was almost certainly in bed, which was why he had come home in the first place. Hell, he didn’t even really feel like playing his guitar. This was a veg out sort of night.

He peeled off his coat and threw it over the back of the chair, then went to his bedroom and stripped off everything but his pants and vest and pulled on some pyjama bottoms. His bed seemed to call to him, but he wasn’t quite ready to surrender just yet. 

There were two lagers in the fridge and he grabbed one, screwing off the top and drinking nearly half in one go. He took the rest into his lounge, grabbing a bag of pretzels on the way, and plopped into his favorite armchair. He turned on the telly, flipped around until he found a comedy, then kicked his feet up and took another swig of his beer. 

He’d just finished the bottle and was contemplating going to get the other one when his phone played Rose’s text tone, surprising him. 

~Rose: _hope you’re okay. missed you tonight._

Ian’s heart sank. He’d been sure she’d be asleep, so he’d come home instead of going to her cottage. Now he’d disappointed her. 

~Ian: _I thought you’d be asleep. didn’t want to wake you._  
~Rose: _it would have been fine if you had woken me up. I don’t mind._

He tapped on the side of the phone for a moment, trying to think of what he could say to continue the conversation, but she beat him to it. 

~Rose: _could come over now, if you want_

Oh, how he wanted. He wanted very, very much. But --

~Ian: _can’t, sweetheart. I had a beer when I got home._  
~Rose: _ah. so you’re drunk_

He laughed right out loud at that. 

~Ian: _ha! not hardly._  
~Rose: _;)_

Once again, he was at a loss as to how to continue the conversation, but again, Rose saved him.

~Rose: _what are you doing?_  
~Ian: _absolutely nothing. Watching telly_  
~Rose: _anything good?_  
~Ian: _is it ever any fucking good?_  
~Rose: _I dunno. I like watching telly with you_  
~Ian: _I stand corrected. I like that, too._  
~Rose: _sorry we're not watching together_  
~Ian: _me, too_  
~Rose: _bad day?_  
~Ian: _not my best_  
~Rose: _I'm sorry :(_  
~Ian: _I'm a big boy. I'll survive_  
~Rose: _anything I can do?_

Oh, he could think of several things she could do, some of them rather ...adult in nature. His cock followed his train of thought and started to stir - and then the mobile rang in his hand. 

“Hello?”

“I figured this would be easier if we were talking and not typing.”

Even through the phone, her voice was a balm that soothed him, relieved his worried mind, and he regretted not going over to her cottage so he could be near her. 

“That’s good thinking on your part,” he said with a smile, settling back into his chair. 

“I like to think I’m clever at times.” Ian chuckled, and Rose went on. “I got an email today about the antenatal class. It’s Monday night?”

“That sounds right. Clara said she put the information on my desk, but I never got to sit down at my desk today.”

He could hear the frown in her voice. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, sweetheart. I’m talking to you now. Everything’s better.”

She sighed. “I suppose I need to go to bed. Mum wants to go shopping for baby clothes tomorrow.”

“That sounds fun.”

“It should be. I’m not entirely sure what I’ll need - or even want.”

“I can’t believe I’m about to fucking say this, but follow your mum’s advice for the most part. She’s had a baby, and baby clothes have changed very little in the last few decades.”

“Okay,” she said, and he heard her smile. She let out a little gasp and he tensed. “Sweetheart? What is it?”

“She’s kicking me. She must know I’m talking to you.”

Ian beamed. “Maybe she does.”

Rose groaned in his ear, an absolutely gorgeous sound that went straight to his cock. 

"Sweetheart?” he said, throat suddenly dry. “You okay?"

"Yeah," she sighed. "Just getting into bed. Feels so good to lay down..." Then she moaned again and Ian's cock stood at rigid attention.

He swallowed hard. "Is your back hurting?"

"Hmmm, a little. I keep moving around trying to find a comfortable position." And then she made a little mewling sound.

"I wish I was there to help." There were _several_ positions he wanted to try.

She chuckled, low and sinful. "Hmm, yeah, you always make me feel good."

Ian closed his eyes and leaned his head back against his chair, taking deep, cleansing breaths. There was no way she meant that the way he hoped she did. No way. Although he’d welcome the opportunity to prove to her just how good he could make her feel…

He looked down into his lap and his cock was in his hand. How the hell had _that_ happened? He immediately felt guilty, but, well, he wasn’t really _doing_ anything with it. Just lightly stroking it. That was all…

“I’ve been dreaming a lot lately,” Rose broke into his thoughts. “Really vivid dreams.”

Ian could relate completely.

“That’s not uncommon,” he fairly squeaked, then cleared his throat. “Lots of pregnant women have vivid dreams about their baby.”

“I’m not dreaming about the baby.”

Irrationally, Ian’s hand tightened on his cock. “You’re not?”

“Nope.”

“Your old universe, then?”

“No, this bloke I see all the time at the center."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What's he doing at the center?"

"Doting on me, of course."

"Ah, yes, I forgot. Your boyfriend."

"Not exactly."

"So are you and this bloke going to run away together?" he chuckled. 

Her voice was low and sexy as hell. "I would if he asked."

"You don't think he's a little young for you?"

Rose giggled. "There's an age discrepancy, yeah. But I don't care. I'm mad about him.”

Ian was nonplussed. What in the hell could she be talking about? He didn’t think he’d seen any boys at the center who were old enough to shave! "Well, I wish you all the best of luck snagging your dream bloke."

“Thanks. Hopefully one of these days I will.” 

She yawned and made a cute little squeaking sound at the end of it. He grinned. “You should go to sleep, sweetheart. You need your rest.”

“You do, too,” she admonished.

Ian looked down at his cock in his hand. “I’m going in just a minute. Got something to handle first.”

“Oh, alright. Are you picking me up from the center tomorrow?”

“Absolutely, sweetheart.”

“It’s a date.” 

He took another deep breath and stroked himself a little more. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon. Maybe you can introduce me to your boyfriend.”

Rose chuckled. “Maybe so. Goodnight, Ian.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

The call disconnected and Ian looked at the now-dead mobile in his hand. Then he looked down at the far-from-dead cock in his other hand. He hadn’t gotten knob-ons like this since he was a teenager, and he’d honestly thought he was too old for this shit. But apparently not. All Rose had to do was offer him an innocent smile or press herself against him and his cock would stir - not enough that she would notice, thank God, but enough to tell him that her actions weren’t being _interpreted_ as innocent by his stupid body. And then there were the mornings he woke up beside her, hard and aching - something that was happening more and more frequently. He was damned lucky he hadn’t yet made a fool of himself by rutting against her in his sleep.

His hand had continued to move on its own, gradually picking up speed. He put down his mobile, deciding that if he was going to do this he might as well get it over with, and used his now free hand to hold back the waistband of his pyjamas. For one brief moment he debated moving this to the loo where cleanup would be easier but he was comfortable and at the thought of Rose climbing atop him and straddling his hips he decided to stay right where he was. His eyes slipped closed as his hand continued to move.

_She teased him, thrilled to have him at her mercy, and refused to sink down on him at first, rubbing her slick folds along the head of his cock._

_“_ Please _,” he begged, and her tongue poked out from between her teeth mischievously. But she lowered herself ever so slowly, joining their bodies._

 _She leaned forward, resting her hands on his chest_ , and the fact that he was wearing a shirt in real life - even if it was only a thin vest - disrupted the vision so badly that he stopped and whipped the vest over his head before going back to stroking himself.

_Her hands returned to his bare chest as she lowered herself down around him, her fingernails digging slightly into his skin. She was taking her time, letting him fill her inch by inch, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. Then, with a smile, she settled onto his lap, clenching around him as she closed her eyes and moaned._

Ian whimpered and turned his other hand to cup his balls. He was getting close. 

_Rose began to ride him, taking pleasure for herself, and he slipped a finger between them to hurry her along, determined to see her fall with him. She made a noise in the back of her throat and rode him harder, dragging her clit along his thumb._

_“Fuck, yes,”_ he might have said in real life as the Rose in his fantasy started to come. _“Keep moving, sweetheart. Don’t stop.”_

_She cried out, screaming his name, professing her love, and he followed her over, gritting his teeth._

Ian laid there for a moment as the fantasy dissolved. One minute Rose was still atop him, breathing hard, her cheeks flushed and body loose, the next her weight disappeared from his lap, the reality of his softening erection and the sticky discomfort of his come on his fingers and bare abdomen intruding.

Guilt battered at his consciousness. It almost seemed like some sort of defilement, the things he fantasized about her when he felt the need to bring himself off. He knew that she would be horrified to know that he thought of her that way and, frankly, she deserved better than to be his inspiration while wanking. And to have done it while talking to her? That had definitely crossed a line. He was a grown man; he should have better fucking control over his base urges. But God help him, he loved her so fucking much. He craved her touch, craved her kiss, craved her _love_. She was the most precious thing in his world, by far. And if he ever got the chance, he’d show her just how much he cherished her - and her body. But for now…

He opened his eyes and sighed as he saw the mess he’d made. Looking around for something to clean it up with, he grabbed his vest and wiped off his hand and belly as well as he could, trying not to think about what he’d just done. He was a lost cause. 

It was past time to give up on this day. He needed to get to bed.

~*~O~*~

24 February 2012

Ian stared at the chart, reading the notes for at least the fifth time. They still didn’t make any sense, so, with a sigh, he got to his feet and started down the corridor towards Christine’s office to ask her. 

He rapped on the door then stepped inside, spotting Ross at her desk. “Sorry to bother, I won’t keep you long. I was trying to make sense of this note in Kent’s chart. It’s not your writing, and I can’t make it out. Thought you may know.”

She took the offered chart and glanced over it, then translated the clinical note for him and handed it back. He squinted at the paper. “That’s what it says?”

“Yeah. I’ll have a talk with my PA about making sure her notes are more legible.”

“Thanks,” Ian said, getting to his feet. “I appreciate it.”

Ross held up the memo he’d had Clara deliver to the partners earlier that day. “According to this you’re taking leave. For six weeks. Beginning on or about the 29th of May.”

“Yeah? And?”

“You know, Docherty, if I didn’t know better, I’d swear this looks an awful lot like paternity leave. But that can’t be what this is, because you’ve been adamant that you’re not the father.”

Ian narrowed his eyes, ready to do battle. “It doesn’t matter what it fucking looks like. I’ve got plenty of time saved up and I can use it however I please.”

“True.” She looked away for a second as she put the memo down and Ian relaxed the tiniest amount. “How are the antenatal classes coming along?”

“We got into Kelly Martin’s class, which was my first choice. Class starts Monday.”

“Docherty,” Christine said, leaning forward onto her elbows. “I’m coming to you as a friend, alright? Someone who’s been your colleague for fifteen years and knows you well.”

Ian was instantly on alert, his shoulders tense, ready for battle again. “Yeah?”

“Are you prepared to be on the other side of delivering a baby?” Ian opened his mouth to snark at her, but she held up her hand and cut him off. “I’m only saying. I’d been an OB/GYN for six years and delivered hundreds of babies when I had my son, and it was a completely different experience. Things that I knew were normal and supposed to happen were suddenly terrifying. Labor seemed to go on for an eternity. Suddenly, when it was _my_ baby being delivered, everything seemed much, much different. You claim that Rose’s daughter isn’t yours, but I’d be willing to bet my car that you’re going to be in the same boat I was when I had Connor.” 

He didn’t say anything, just digested what she was saying. She was probably right, and he’d never really thought of it that way. 

“I just need you to understand,” Christine went on, leaning further towards him, “I am _not_ going to allow anything to happen to Rose or her baby. I’m going to do everything in my power to keep them safe. I need you to trust me,” she said forcefully. “You chose me for a reason. When the time comes, I need you to trust me.”

Ian stared at her for a moment, then just nodded.

~*~O~*~

Rose was talking to one of her students as class dismissed, praising a still life he’d just completed, when she heard a voice from her past. She gasped, spinning around, and spotted her old mate Shareen standing in the main area of the center, chatting with Osgood and showing off a baby in a carrier. Rose had been convinced she’d never see anyone from her old universe ever again, and her face was alight when she went into the main area, heading straight for Shareen. 

_This isn’t your Shareen. This isn’t your Shareen. This isn’t your Shareen,_ she reminded herself over and over. Her best mate Shareen was a universe away, and she knew it. But the allure of this doppelganger was entirely too much. 

“Hello,” she said brightly when she reached Osgood and Shareen, making a point to smile at Osgood, too, so she didn’t look barmy just staring at Shareen. 

Both women turned and looked at her, Osgood with a smile. “Hello, Rose! Have you met Shareen Baker? Shareen is Timothy Baker’s mother, and now, of course, little Olivia,” Osgood said, wiggling a finger at the baby in the carrier. “Shareen, this is Rose Tyler.”

“I know who she is,” Shareen said in a chilly tone when Rose tried to offer her hand, and Rose recoiled just a bit. 

“You do?”

“All over the red tops, aren’t you? The lost Vitex heiress no one had ever heard of, come back to claim her inheritance.”

“That’s not --”

“Rose teaches art several days a week,” Osgood broke in, trying to mediate. “Timothy has been enjoying her class.”

“He’s a wonderful little artist,” Rose volunteered.

“Thanks,” Shareen said shortly. “Osgood, if you’ll excuse us, I believe we need to go. This little girl needs to eat soon.”

“Of course,” Osgood said graciously with an apologetic look at Rose. Shareen didn’t even acknowledge Rose when she stepped away, going to hunt down Timothy and get him ready to go. Once she was out of earshot, Osgood apologized. “I’m sorry she acted like that. I don’t know what that was about.”

“It’s fine,” Rose said with a smile she didn’t quite feel. “I’m sure lots of people feel that way about me.”

Osgood looked over her shoulder and grinned. “I think I know something that may make you feel better…”

“What?” Osgood nodded over Rose’s shoulder towards something behind her, and Rose turned around to find Ian standing by the door, pulling off his gloves and dismissing Henry. Her face split into a wide smile and she went to him, completely forgetting Osgood.

“Hey you,” she said, stopping in front of him, touching her teeth with her tongue. 

“Hey yourself,” he smiled back at her. 

“You’re early.”

“Just a bit. Why, is that a problem?”

Rose shook her head. “No, not at all.”

Ian looked around the center. "So, which one is he?"

“Which one is who?”

“Your dream boy.”

Rose laughed. "You can't possibly think I'd run off with one of these boys, Ian."

"But --"

Rose just giggled again. "I'm craving dumplings. Can we stop on the way home?"

"You're going to turn into a dumpling, sweetheart."

She looked at him with big eyes, batting her lashes at him. 

He sighed. "Oh, alright."

She squealed, then giggled. “Let me get my coat, I’ll be right back.”

Her coat was in her classroom and she put it on quickly, anxious to get back to Ian. Once she was properly bundled, she stepped back into the main area, waving at Osgood, then turning towards the door to go to Ian. To her absolute shock, Shareen was standing with him and the two were talking. 

Rose approached carefully, aware that Shareen would likely resent her presence, but she’d told Ian she’d come right back. He’d wonder why if she didn’t. 

Shareen was smiling up at Ian. “She’s gained four ounces, and the pediatrician seemed happy about that this afternoon.”

“With good reason. That’s wonderful, Mrs. Baker. Looks like you’ve got a tough little girl there.”

Rose arrived at Ian’s side and he reached for her hand automatically, without even looking. Shareen didn’t acknowledge her. 

“I’d have lost her if it hadn’t been for you, Dr. Docherty. Thank you so much, I can never repay you.”

“You don’t need to --”

“Miss Rose!”

All three of the adults turned towards the boy calling her name, but before any of them could blink, he’d plowed into Rose, his arms around her, knocking her sideways and hitting her belly. Ian automatically braced Rose, then put a hand on her belly next to the boy’s head, looking ready to snap, but Rose waved him off subtly. 

“Timothy!” Shareen barked. “You know better than that! There’s a baby in her tummy!”

“I’m alright,” Rose assured her. “He’s alright.”

“Mum, this is Miss Rose. She says my art is the best!” Timothy said exuberantly. 

Shareen finally looked at Rose, who nodded. “He is quite talented. I hope he’ll continue to practice.”

“Yes, well, we’ll have to see.” And Rose had heard that tone often enough as a child, usually accompanied by phrases such as ‘art won’t pay the bills’ and ‘painting will give you airs and graces’. _Her_ Shareen would have known that, but of course, she couldn’t tell this one that she understood.

Shareen pulled Timothy away from Rose and as soon as the boy was with his mother, Ian slipped his arm around Rose’s waist. She smiled up at him, hoping to reassure him that she was fine. 

The other woman nodded at Ian and Rose. “So it’s true then. You two, you’re a proper couple.”

Rose felt her mouth fall open and her face flush. She didn’t dare look at Ian to see what kind of state he was in. Her mind raced for something to say, some way to get them out of this situation, but Timothy saved them again. 

“Mum, I’m ready to go. You promised shepherd’s pie tonight, and I’m hungry.”

“Alright, alright, hold your horses. Dr. Docherty, again, thank you so much for my little girl.”

“It was my pleasure.”

She turned to look at Rose. “I’m sure I’ll see you here again, since you’re Timothy’s teacher.”

“I look forward to it,” Rose said politely.

Timothy grabbed his mum’s hand and started tugging, and Ian and Rose both waved goodbye. Once Shareen was out the door, Rose heaved a sigh of relief - and fought back tears. She waved to Osgood, then practically dragged Ian to his car. He would have a million questions, she was sure of it, but she wasn’t up for answering anything at the moment. He had just unlocked the doors when the tears started, and Rose wept bitterly. Ian, to his credit, just held her and let her cry while the snow fell around them, not asking her anything. When she pulled herself together, he kissed her forehead, bundled her in the car, and took her home.


	41. Chapter 41

25 February 2012

They hadn’t been inside Torchwood’s doors for more than a minute when Rose’s name was called across the lobby and a group of black-clad _soldiers_ descended upon them. Ian tensed and tried to draw Rose closer to him, but she stepped away and welcomed them with open arms.

The pretty boy with the spiked hair he recognized from Pete’s New Year’s party, but none of the other faces looked familiar. They were all talking over one another as Rose hugged each of them in turn, playing a version of ‘How have you been?’ that he was certain no one was able to understand any of the answers given.

“Look at you!” one of the men exclaimed as he backed out of Rose’s embrace, his hand landing on top of her bump and sliding around it to the side.

Rose’s shoulders stiffened and Ian was beside her in an instant. He needn’t have worried, the sound of a sharp smack echoed through the lobby and the offender pulled back his stinging hand.

“What the hell, Rose?”

“You can’t just touch a pregnant woman’s belly without permission, Brad!” she snarled.

Ian’s hand landed on Rose’s waist and he pulled her tightly against his side just in time for the pretty boy to step forward. Rose covered his hand with her own and squeezed gently, a subtle _it’s alright_ , and Ian reluctantly loosened his grip but kept his eyes trained on Brad while Rose said hello to the pretty boy.

“Hi, Jake. You guys are much too clean to be coming back from a mission. Going out?”

“Nah. Heading down to the range to get in some hours.” 

Rose snorted. “I’m surprised Mick’s not with you. He never misses a chance to go shooting.”

The whole team’s demeanor changed and it seemed like the temperature in the lobby dropped by several degrees. Frankly, a child could have picked up on it, so Ian wasn’t at all surprised when Rose stumbled back against him, her hand at her throat. 

“Did something happen?”

Jake looked up at Ian then back at Rose. “I can’t say.”

“What happened, Jake?” she demanded.

“He’s a civilian, Rose,” he tilted his head up to indicate Ian. She started to say something, but he cut her off. “I’m not sure what your clearance is right now, either. We expect Mickey back in the office soon. I can say that much.”

Rose relaxed just a fraction and she nodded. “Alright. I understand.”

“Now, you here to see your dad?”

“Yep,” Rose lied baldly, and Ian snickered to himself about Jake being on the wrong side of the clearance line. She looked over her shoulder at Ian. “In fact, we’re probably running late, so we should be going.”

“And we need to get downstairs. I’ll see you later?”

“Sure.”

They said their goodbyes and Rose waved to the team as they left.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asked as soon as they were alone.

“Yeah. Mickey’s a good agent. He’ll be alright.” Ian wasn’t quite sure that even Rose believed what she was saying, but he wasn’t about to call her on it. Then she looked up at him and her tongue curled around her teeth. “I’ve got a tenner says he’s fine.”

Ian laughed out loud. “You’re on, sweetheart.”

She squeezed his hand. “Let’s go upstairs.”

They stepped off of the lift a few moments later into an environment Ian was intimately familiar with. The average passerby would never be able to tell that the unassuming building which housed Torchwood also contained a fully operational hospital, but that appeared to be what Ian was looking at. There was a nurses station directly across from the lifts, exam rooms along the wall to their right, a waiting room on the left, and doctors and nurses walked around in dark blue scrubs with a stylized T logo on the breast.

Rose walked up to the nurses station and didn’t even get a chance to say hello before the nurse spoke up. 

“Good morning, Miss Tyler. If you have a seat, I’ll let them know you’ve arrived.”

Ian and Rose did as asked, sitting in the cheap chairs that lined the walls of the small waiting area. Rose kept her hand firmly in his, and he could feel her shaking.

“Hey, this is going to be fine. Just like a visit to my office, yeah?”

She laughed a little. “I don’t think it’s exactly the same, but okay.”

Ian brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it. “Nothing is going to happen to you, sweetheart. I won’t let it. Don’t be scared; I swear I’ll keep you safe.”

Rose smiled up at him and he could see the trust in her eyes, the faith she was putting in him. He vowed to himself not to let her down. 

“Miss Tyler?”

Ian and Rose both looked up. A male nurse stood there in the doorway wearing the same blue scrubs as everyone else, solidly built, broad in the shoulder. “Yes?”

“If you’ll come with me, please.” 

They got to their feet and followed him to a lab where the phlebotomist did a blood draw. Ian had learned long ago that Rose was not a fan of needles, so as he usually did, he tried his best to distract her with conversation and questions. Before they knew it, the blood draw was over and the lab technician was handing Rose a plastic cup. 

“I know what this is for, thanks,” she snarked, and Ian bit back a grin. A minute later, she’d returned from the loo with the sample and the nurse led them somewhere else.

The room that he and Rose were escorted into looked more like a hospital room than an exam room, and it made Ian distinctly uncomfortable. There was a hospital bed, not an exam table, and a large, state-of-the-art ultrasound machine in the corner. There were no paintings or soft touches, nothing to make the room more comforting or welcoming. 

Rose didn’t seem to be too pleased with the situation, either, because she held on to his hand tighter, looking around the room anxiously.

“There’s a gown for you to put on,” the nurse said, indicating a folded gown on the foot of the bed. “And there’s a loo through that door. You can change in there.”

She looked at Ian uncertainly, but he just squeezed her hand. “Go on,” he told her quietly. “I’ll be right here.”

Bravely, Rose nodded and picked up the gown, going to the loo to change as requested. As soon as the door was shut, the meathead nurse turned and stared at Ian.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to wait outside, back in the waiting area.”

Ian scoffed. “You can ask all you goddamn like, isn’t going to get you any fucking where.”

The nurse’s face grew sterner. “Sir, you are not permitted to be in this room during the exam.”

“I’ve a right to be anywhere I want to be - _especially_ when the mother wants me there.” 

“You’re a civilian and don’t have the proper clearance --"

“There’s nothing about this pregnancy that I don’t know. The chances that you’re going to find something in this exam that comes as a surprise to me are nil. I don’t need clearance for what I already know.”

Rose came out then, scurrying to the bed and crawling up on it, holding the gown closed. Ian politely didn’t look. She apparently noticed the tension, because she asked, “What’s going on?”

“This twat says I have to leave, I don’t have clearance.”

“He stays,” Rose said firmly. 

“Mr. Docherty --"

“Doctor,” Ian snarled.

“I’m sorry?”

“My name is Dr. Ian Docherty. You’ve likely heard of me if you’re an OB nurse worth your salt. If not, I don’t want you anywhere fucking near this woman. Come to think of it, I don’t want you anywhere fucking near this woman anyway. Leave.”

The twat was unperturbed. “The only people permitted in the exam room are Miss Tyler’s doctors and nurses.”

"I'm an OB!" 

“Are you _her_ OB?”

"Of course I’m not _her_ OB, you mewling fud! I'm her fucking support person!"

"Are you her husband? The baby's father?"

Something in the vicinity of his heart tore with those words and he felt himself slump.

The meathead twat looked almost gleeful, “If you’re not a family member or treating the patient, you can’t stay."

“Yes, he can,” Rose spoke up again. “He stays.” 

There was a fierceness to her tone, but Ian could hear the wavering. She was afraid, and he wasn’t having it. He bent and kissed her hand again, then turned to the burly nurse. “Happy now?”

“No. You have to go, sir.” 

“Says who?”

“It’s Torchwood policy --”

Ian sneered. “Torchwood policy? Is that right? You’re going to fucking love this.” He bent down to kiss Rose’s forehead as he pulled his mobile out of his pocket. 

"Ian…" Rose whispered, her eyes tearful and afraid.

"I’m not leaving you," he told her, his eyes boring into hers, willing her to understand. "Do you hear me? I’m _not_." 

He dialed with one hand, the other firmly wrapped around the rail on the side of Rose’s bed; they could remove him from the room when they pried open his cold, dead hand. 

Pete spoke in his ear. _“You can’t be done already. Is there a --”_

“Get your arse down here, Ringo. I’ve got some fuckwit nurse trying to kick me out of the exam room."

_“Stay where you are. I’ll be there in less than five minutes.”_

Ian did as he was instructed, smirking a bit when he snapped “five minutes” at the wankstain as he shoved his mobile back into his pocket. When his hand was free, he took Rose’s in his again, sitting down on the bed to face her, kissing her knuckles. And if he had anything to say about it, he was never going to let go. 

"I’m staying, sweetheart,” he whispered. “I’m here."

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m not going anywhere.”

The full five minutes had not yet passed when the fucktard cleared his throat to speak but was cut off by the door opening. Pete stepped in and glanced from where they sat on the bed to the nurse standing stiffly near the door.

“What seems to be the problem? I thought Staples was supposed to be doing an exam.”

“The civilian refuses to leave, sir. I was just about to contact security to have him removed.”

Pete snorted a laugh. “He stays.”

“But, sir, he’s not authorized --”

Ian darted his eyes over to see Pete grab a handful of the nurse’s scrubs and pull him to a corner of the room. “Give me one _medical_ reason why he can’t be here and I’ll throw him out myself. But if you can’t come up with one it’s a protocol issue and I’m overriding it. He stays.” 

“Yes, sir.”

“Good,” Pete said, releasing the nurse. “Go get Staples. It’s time for him to do this exam.”

The nurse scurried away and Ian squeezed Rose’s hand. “Thank you, Pete.”

“Yes,” Rose said in a much more watery voice. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

There was a sharp, quick knock on the door and it opened, revealing a relatively short, bespectacled man carrying a file. Ian was reminded of a weasel, and suddenly wanted to take Rose and run out of the building. He certainly didn’t want this man putting his hands on her or the baby. 

“Dr. Staples,” Pete said, stepping forward and offering his hand. The doctor took it. “You know Rose, and this is Dr. Ian Docherty.”

Staples shook Rose’s hand, then looked at Ian as if he were sizing him up. “Dr. Docherty. Your reputation precedes you.”

Ian didn’t flinch. “That could mean a lot of things, so I’ll choose to believe the best.”

He expected Staples to backtrack, to say that he’d only heard wonderful things, but the weaselly man didn’t. He just smirked, and Ian’s dislike and distrust grew.

Staples seemed to dismiss him. “Well, Agent Tyler!”

“Please, call me Rose.”

“Not Agent Tyler?”

“I prefer Rose.”

“How about Miss Tyler instead, hmm?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “As I was saying, we’ve been getting reports from your civilian OB/GYN, a Dr…” he glanced at his file, “Ross. Everything seems to be going along swimmingly.”

“Yes, I seem to be having a normal pregnancy so far,” she agreed. 

“Good, good. The first thing we’re going to do today is the standard exam you’ve been getting with Dr. Ross. I’m going to palpate your uterus and take some measurements, then we’ll be doing an ultrasound to get a good look at this baby. What we find there will dictate the rest of the exam; we may have some other tests to do. I’ll likely have some questions, and we’ll be doing a pelvic exam.”

Ian went ramrod straight and squeezed Rose’s hand. Over his dead body.

Staples went on, directing his words at Rose. "I’m given to understand that Dr. Docherty is to stay with you for the duration of the exam. Is that right?”

Rose nodded. “Yes. He stays with me. My father can stay as well.”

Ian felt his jaw drop a little in shock, and he looked up at Pete quickly. His best friend looked just as surprised, and Ian knew him well enough to know that he was touched, too. He could have kissed Rose for giving Pete that moment. Instead, he just turned his hand so that their fingers could lace together and squeezed her hand.

“Let’s get started then, shall we?” Staples said with a cheerfulness that Ian found grating. The Torchwood doctor did indeed get started, and Ian snapped at him when he mashed Rose’s belly so hard that she whimpered and bit her lip. 

“You’re fucking hurting her!”

Staples looked at him coolly. “I’m almost done.”

Rose squeezed his hand and shook her head a little, effectively calling him off. He did his best to smile down at her and comfort her instead of reacting to the man who was causing her some pain. 

After Staples finished measuring, Ian and Pete pulled chairs up beside Rose’s bed. Ian couldn’t help but be excited at the opportunity to see his Little Face again, and the smile on Rose’s face said she felt the same way. Pete still looked fairly stoic, but Ian suspected he’d be a bit more excited soon. 

Staples squirted the goo all over Rose’s distended belly, then put the wand down in it. At once, an image of the baby came on screen, a beautiful profile shot, and Ian had to blink back tears. 

Rose whispered from beside him, "Look, Ian, there's Hazel."

"Bite your tongue, woman. That baby's name is Zinnia,” he chuckled. Then he kissed the hand he held, not giving a fuck who saw him or what they thought. “Look at her sweet little toes. Do you see them?”

“Yeah,” Rose whispered. 

Ian tore his eyes away from the screen long enough to look over at Rose and see that she had a tear running down her cheek. He got to his feet, bent over her and kissed her forehead. “She’s beautiful, sweetheart. She’s perfect.”

Pete spoke for the first time. “Is she --"

Rose giggled. “She’s sucking her thumb.”

“That’s amazing,” he breathed, and Ian just smiled.

Ian had taken his seat again and was back to watching the little girl on the screen, idly kissing Rose’s fingers that were threaded between his own, then the door opened and the meathead nurse came in with a tray. On the tray was an instrument Ian knew all too well - an amniocentesis needle.

He shot to his feet, knocking the chair he’d been sitting in away. “Just what the fuck is the meaning of this!?” he demanded. 

Staples gave him a patronizing look. “I did inform you that there would be other tests…”

Rose grabbed his hand. Clearly she hadn’t seen the 7.5 centimeter needle yet, or she’d be in a panic. “Ian?”

He ignored her and shook his head at Staples. “No. Absolutely not. She didn’t consent to this and if she _did_ , she revokes consent right now.”

Pete looked terribly confused, but said, “Ian, you can’t revoke her consent.”

“I’m not. I’m just fucking telling you that she _will_ revoke as soon as she knows what you’re trying to do.”

Rose finally saw the needle and gasped, clutching Ian’s hand, pulling him. “Ian, no. Don’t let them, please.”

“See?” Then he turned to Rose. “It’s alright, sweetheart. They’re not going to touch you.”

“We have to --"

“You _don’t_ fucking have to! You're not getting a fucking amnio. If you need the baby’s DNA that badly, you can swab her when she's born. But you're not going to jeopardize m-” he caught himself, “this baby's life for some fucking fluid."

“No one’s life will be in jeopardy, I assure you --"

“You’re not even a goddamn OB! You’re a xenobiologist! There’s no way in hell you could do this safely!”

Pete got to his feet and looked at Staples. “You assured me that everything would be entirely safe.”

“He fucking lied!” Ian hurled, but nobody paid him any mind just then. Rose snuffled, and he sat down on the bed beside her, putting his arms around her and kissing her temple.

“It _is_ perfectly safe --"

“The fuck it is!”

“Ian --"

“ _No,_ Pete. An amnio is a procedure that you don’t do without damn good cause, and these NASA rejects’ curiosity isn’t good enough. Amnios can be done safely, but they are _not_ risk-free. I’m a damned good doctor - _damned_ good - and I’ve had amnios go wrong before. This quack has probably fucking watched a YouTube video and now he wants to put his hands on Rose? I don’t fucking think so!”

“ _I am not a quack!_ ” Staples shouted. 

Ian held Rose a little closer, tucked her head under his chin and pointed a menacing finger at him. "If you come anywhere near this woman with the intent of doing an amnio, as God is my fucking witness, I will take her and hide her so completely that none of you will ever be able to find her, and you’d better believe I've got the fucking means to do it," he snarled.

"Ian --"

"Try me, Pete. I fucking dare you. You'll never see any of the three of us again."

“You don’t have to do that. It’s a non-issue,” Pete said, his hands up, then turned to Staples. “The moment my daughter saw the needle and said ‘no’, that was the end of it. You’re not doing this test. Move along.”

Staples nodded, clearly displeased, and Ian eyed him distrustfully while he cleaned up the goo on Rose’s belly and put away the ultrasound machine. The joy of seeing the baby had been stolen, and he was absolutely ready to leave. He’d bet Rose was, too. She was settling down, pulling herself together bravely. He kissed the side of her head and whispered, “I’m so proud of you.” She looked up at him and gave him a weak smile. Pete was watching him and Rose, and Ian wondered if he should get back in his own chair. Not yet, he thought. Something made him stay. 

“I just have a few more questions, then we’ll move on to do the pelvic exam.”

Ian snorted out loud. Not happening.

Staples gave him a look that Ian didn’t like one bit, then turned to Rose and said, "The father, as we understand it from eyewitness reports, was tall and lean, brown eyes and hair - quite a lot of hair, we hear." He chuckled, but no one else did. Ian tensed, but Rose laid her hand on his leg. It calmed him. 

"He appeared to be a young man, approximately thirty-five years of age, and by all accounts was very attractive."

Ian bit his tongue trying not to say anything and seriously considered leaving. He didn’t want to hear this.

“Yes, that’s all true, except he was nine hundred and two years old.”

“Is there any more information you can give us about the father’s anatomy, Miss Tyler?”

Every time Staples referred to the Doctor as ‘the father’, Ian felt the overwhelming desire to punch a hole in a wall. Rose curled her fingers around his and again, he was soothed a little.

"I already have."

"Humor me, please. Perhaps there’s something you forgot to tell us last fall. The more we know about the father, the better."

Ian ground his teeth.

"He was always going on about his superiority over other species, but he didn’t go into a lot of detail. He was brilliant, properly brilliant. I know he had two hearts, an extended lifespan, and a severe allergy to aspirin. He avoided ginger but never said why, I assume he was allergic to that, too. His body temperature was lower than a human’s. I don’t know what his temperature _was_ , only that it was a couple of degrees cooler. And he could regenerate."

"Could you elaborate?"

“After I’d been travelling with him for about a year, the Doctor regenerated. He… caught fire right in front of me. When the fire was gone, he was a new man.”

“A new man?”

“Yes and no. In a manner of speaking. He looked completely different and had different mannerisms, but all the same memories and knowledge and whatnot.”

Staples glanced at Ian again before he turned back to Rose and smiled with all the warmth of a shark. “Alright. Now, Ms. Tyler, I hope you'll forgive me, but was your daughter conceived the traditional way? Meaning that you had intercourse with her father?"

Ian rubbed his forehead, trying desperately to keep his cool. Pete ducked his head, looking away. Rose’s voice was wavery and Ian could tell she was almost crying, but she nodded. “Yes.”

"I see. Were you sleeping with the father before he regenerated? Could this baby be his first incarnation's?"

“No, our romantic relationship started after he regenerated.” She squeezed Ian’s hand, and he wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but he squeezed back in reassurance. “And it was a short relationship. We were only together for a couple of weeks before I fell through the void.”

“Were you and the father monogamous?”

“Yes,” she answered, and he could hear her crying now. Ian felt like his heart was going to rip right out of his chest, thinking of her grieving the Doctor again. Stupid fucking Staples seemed to be pushing every button he could fucking find, and didn’t care that he was ripping open Rose’s old wounds with all the finesse of a butcher. Ian put his arms around her and kissed the top of her hair reassuringly. He didn’t want to hear this, he didn’t want his sweetheart to hear this, and he was a hair’s breadth away from doing bodily harm to this weaselly little fucker. 

Staples went on, unperturbed. "Okay. So you and the father were engaged in a sexual relationship that was short-lived. I’m assuming that the two of you copulated frequently-?”

" _OH, FUCK YOU_!" Ian burst out, finally having had enough. The vein was pulsing in his forehead, he could _feel_ it, and it was only the fact that Rose was clinging to him and crying that kept him from committing battery on the other doctor. “You’re done here. Get the fuck out. Stay the fuck away from her.”

“I hardly think you’re in a position --"

“No, but I am,” Pete said, also on his feet. “You are _not_ going to humiliate my daughter that way. Get out of this room.”

“But sir --"

“ _Get out!_ ”

Staples hustled out of the room and Pete followed, but Ian barely noticed. Rose was bundled in his arms, sobbing, and his heart broke to think that after all the progress she’d made getting past the Doctor, this bastard had set her back. He just soothed her, telling her that he was there, that she was safe, that he’d take care of her. But when he was finally able to understand what she was saying, he found that she was apologizing over and over - to him. 

“I’m sorry, Ian. I’m so sorry…”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart, you have nothing to be sorry for.”

“But he said those things… he talked about those things…”

“Those things don’t change how I see you,” he told her, recognizing that he was treading on thin ice. “Not one bit. You’re my sweetheart. Yeah?”

She nodded against his chest and he kissed her hair again, rubbing her back. She was being so brave, and he was so proud of her. 

Once she had calmed enough, he kissed her forehead. "You get changed. I'll go smooth things over with Pete and we’ll get the fuck out of here." 

She laughed a little. “Sounds good.” He stood up to leave and she called his name.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. For… for everything.”

He leaned over and kissed her forehead again. “You’re welcome, sweetheart. You’re always welcome. Now get dressed.”

She nodded and he helped her off the bed so she could go to the loo and change. Once she was safely in there, Ian opened the door to try and find Pete, but stopped when he heard talking a short distance away.

A voice Ian didn’t recognize said, “I thought the father was extraterrestrial?”

“Biologically, yeah,” he heard Pete agree. 

The other voice was quiet for a second, then said, “But, that man in there with her just now… the way he acted, I thought _he_ was the father.”

Ian heard Pete heave a great sigh. "It would seem that he’s the father in every way that counts, wouldn't it?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amniocenteses are almost entirely safe, when done by an experienced OB. I (Caedmon) have had two myself that turned out fine. Ian knows this, but he is reacting so strongly 1) to the idea of anything even _potentially_ hurting Rose or the baby, 2) because of Staples' lack of experience, 3) because of Rose's fear of needles. 
> 
> Please don't beat the authors up for lack of medical knowledge. We're doing our best! :)


	42. Chapter 42

27 February 2012

Ian showed up at the community center about a half hour earlier than usual to pick Rose up, having left his own work early. The first antenatal class was tonight, and he knew that if they were going to grab a bite to eat and make it to the class on time, he and Rose would have to cut their usual schedule a little short. He’d made the necessary arrangements with Clara last week and had asked Rose to talk to Osgood. He assumed that she had. 

His assumptions were proven right when he opened the door and went into the center out of the cold. Henry got to his feet and offered his hand, as he always did, and Ian shook it. 

“She’s been watching for you,” the driver said, grinning a little. “Pokes her head out of her classroom door every couple of minutes.”

Ian felt a warmth in his chest and couldn’t help his own grin. “Well, I’m here now. Thank you, Henry. I’ll see you on Wednesday.”

With that dismissal, the other man gave a wave, then slipped on his coat and went out into the cold. 

He hadn’t had time to properly debate whether or not to go fetch her from her class when a beloved blonde head peeked out from the door to her classroom. When she spotted him her face broke into a huge smile, and he returned it, feeling the lightness that always came with being around her. Ian wondered idly if everyone in love felt the way he felt, or if his feelings were somehow different and more beautiful because they were for Rose. 

She held up a finger, mouthing ‘one second’, and he nodded. Hardly more than a second had passed when boys and girls started filing out of the classroom, chattering happily with each other. Rose was just behind them, putting on her coat as she came out of the room. 

“I just have to let Osgood know I’m leaving,” she told him, and he nodded. She detoured off to the right and poked her head into the director’s office. Ian heard her laughing with her boss, then she waved and started towards him. 

“Ready to go?” 

“Yep!” she answered cheerfully.

Ian adjusted her scarf to make it more snug, earning a giggle from her, then offered his elbow and opened the door for the two of them to leave. The wind was biting and he got her in the car as quickly as he could, getting in and cranking it so the car would start to warm up soon. With a quick glance to make sure that Rose was buckled and safe, he pulled out of the car park. 

“Damn!” Rose burst out before he’d even gotten a block away. 

“What?”

“I forgot to bring a pillow. The website for the class said to bring a pillow.”

Ian chuckled. “I brought one, it’s in the backseat.” She twisted herself around to look into the rear of the small car, and he grinned when she relaxed back into her seat. He reached over to take her hand, and they threaded their fingers together. “Feel better now?”

“Yes, thank you. I’d forget my head if it wasn’t screwed on lately. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“It’s called ‘pregnancy brain’. Perfectly normal.”

“Annoying as hell,” she muttered.

“Annoying but normal,” he confirmed, unable to hide his smile. “We need to eat before class. Are you craving anything?”

“You’re going to make a face,” she warned him, and he struggled not to make a face in anticipation. 

“I won’t. Promise.”

“I want fish fingers and custard again.”

It took a herculean effort not to dry heave, but he managed it. “It’s too late to go home and eat before the class, sweetheart, we have to get something from a restaurant.”

Rose was quiet for a second, contemplating, and he stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. He didn’t want to rush her but they only had a little over an hour --

“Rocco’s. Let’s go to Rocco’s.”

“The chippie?”

“Yeah! I can get some fried fish - that’s close enough to fish fingers that I should be okay. And Rocco’s sells custard as a dessert. I can just get mine with my meal!”

Ian did his best to keep his eyes on the road and not stare at her, wide eyed with horror. 

“Plus,” she went on, “I can get chips. I love chips… that’ll be brilliant! What do you say?”

What could he _possibly_ say? Fish and chips were not his favorite meal in the first place, and when you factored in having to watch Rose dipping her fish in vanilla custard… he repressed a shudder. Nothing about that sounded appealing. Ordinarily, he’d refuse to even consider it.

But this was Rose, and he could refuse her nothing. 

“Let’s go get you some fish and custard,” he said with as much positivity as he could muster.

~*~O~*~

Rose’s mind was full to bursting with everything she had learned, but she was terribly excited when they left the hospital to go home after her first antenatal class. It had been a wonderful ninety minutes, she thought, not the least of which because Ian had been touching her in some way pretty much the entire class. She’d spent a good amount of time sitting between his legs with her back against his chest, his arms wrapped around her and his hands on her belly. It had felt so natural, so right, for him to hold her that way that she hadn’t wanted to get up when it was time to go.

The only hiccup was the fact that the teacher, Kelly, kept referring to the coaches as ‘Dads’. Rose had noticed Ian squirming a couple of times when she said that, and the knowledge that it made him uncomfortable hurt her feelings irrationally. It was stupid for her to feel that way. No matter how much she loved him and hoped he’d want to be her baby’s father, it seemed her mum was wrong. He _was_ bothered by the fact that her daughter was another man’s baby. But she couldn’t blame him. Ian was just being logical. Rose had done her best to swallow her bruised feelings and concentrate on the class - when he wasn’t teasing her. 

They’d made it a little over halfway home when Ian squeezed her hand. “Did you hear Kelly mention about creating a birth plan?”

Rose grinned. “I already told you, my plan is to go to the hospital and have a baby.”

She could almost hear him roll his eyes. “That’s a given, little miss cheeky. Kelly didn’t go into much detail, but there are lots of other things to consider.”

“Like what?”

“Well, you can stipulate things you want or don’t want. Like, you list the people who are allowed to be present during labor, during delivery, and after delivery. You can say that you want the room quiet and the lights dimmed, if you want. You can say that you want music - any music you find soothing. Although I have to admit, the idea of turning you loose with that is a bit fucking daunting.”

“Oi!”

He chuckled. “The biggest details are how you want to deliver, how you want to _labor_ , and at what point you want your spinal block.”

Rose shook her head. “I’m not getting a spinal block.”

Ian turned his head and looked at her incredulously, then turned onto Rose’s road. “Epidural, then.”

“I’m not getting that, either.”

He laughed as he turned into Pete’s driveway, almost smirking. “Rose, be serious.”

“I am being serious. I’m not getting an epidural.”

“Why the fuck not?!”

“Because it’s pain relief!”

“And? That’s the fucking _point_ of it! So you’re not in pain!”

She was becoming more agitated and felt tears pricking. “Women have been having babies for centuries upon centuries without any kind of pain relief. I can do the same.”

Ian pulled the car to a stop in her little driveway and turned in his seat to face her. “Rose. Sweetheart. You don’t need to be a hero. The medication is there to help you, to make giving birth to this little girl the most pleasant experience it can be.” He stroked her belly lovingly and she bit her lip against the tears. “You need to get the fucking epidural.”

Rose bristled, then opened the car door, preparing to get out. “No.” 

Ignoring his dumbfounded look, she got out of the car and went to her door, punching in the code to unlock it. Ian came striding up behind her, and without even looking at him, she knew he was upset. He’d never been angry with her before, but she wouldn’t be backing down. Not on this.

He closed the door behind himself while she stomped into the lounge. Ian followed her in there, clearly furious, and although Rose didn’t fear him at all, couldn’t imagine ever fearing this man she loved so much, she still folded her arms across her body, prepped for battle.

Ian took a deep breath before he spoke. “Rose, listen. You have to do this-”

“No, I _don’t_ have to do this!” she burst out, releasing her arms and gesticulating to emphasize words. “The Doctor’s allergy to aspirin was severe, okay? It was basically poison to him. And I’m not willing to risk my daughter’s life to avoid a little pain.”

He looked stung, his eyes wide. “Do you honestly fucking think that I would risk this baby’s health or safety in _any_ way? Or yours? Is that what you fucking think of me?”

“Of course not! Don’t be daft. I know you care about her. But an epidural could be dangerous.”

His hands clenched by his sides. "There's no aspirin in a fucking epidural!" 

" _I'm not willing to risk it!_ " Rose shouted.

" _Goddammit, Rose_ ,” he yelled right back, throwing his hands up helplessly. “I can't even fucking bear to _think_ about you in pain!"

Rose recoiled, one arm crossing her body again and the other hand covering her mouth. As much as he swore, as often as he cursed, he’d never sworn _at_ her. The tears she’d been holding back for a while spilled over, splashing onto her cheeks. Ian stood across the room, breathing heavily, hands clenched by his sides, and she wondered if he realized what he’d just done.

“Get out,” she said in a low voice. 

Ian sighed, blowing out his cheeks. He brought both fists up to his forehead, rubbing it hard, then dragged his fingers through his hair. Once he was done, he looked much more calm, although his hair was a wreck. “Sweetheart --”

“Get out,” she repeated, now pointing at the door behind him. 

He looked almost alarmed. “Rose --”

“No,” she cut him off. “Get out.”

“ _Listen_ to me, sweetheart,” he pleaded, taking a step forward.

“ _I said get out!_ ” she yelled, then bit her lip to keep from sobbing. 

Ian looked as if she’d slapped him and just blinked stupidly for a second. Rose was just about to break and throw herself into his arms, sobbing, when he threw his hands up. “Fine. Fine. Fucking fine.” 

In three strides he was at the door, throwing it open and then slamming it shut behind him. Rose stayed still in the lounge until she heard the sound of his car’s engine revving as he left. Then she ran down the hall to her bedroom, threw herself across the bed and cried like she hadn’t cried in months - since just after she landed here. She’d thought everything would be okay in this world, she’d thought she could be happy here - because of Ian. She loved him so much, thought of him every second of every day, but she could never have him. He didn’t want a family and didn’t care about her daughter - not the way she wanted him to. The way she needed him to.

The tears were just starting to subside forty-five minutes later when she heard Ian’s engine and the crunch of tires in her driveway. She went very, very still, listening carefully, and heard his car door shut. A minute later, she heard him pressing the code into the keypad and letting himself in. She rolled over onto her side so her back was facing the door and - much to her frustration - started to cry quietly again. She didn’t know what he wanted, but she was fairly sure that if she looked at him, she’d fall into his arms and never let go - whether she should or not. 

She didn’t turn over when she heard him come into the bedroom. It was quiet, like a held breath, then Rose heard some shuffling. Before she could suss out what that sound was, the bed dipped behind her and a moment later, he’d spooned up against her. 

Rose laid perfectly still, doing her best not to make any noise when she cried, hoping he’d think she was asleep. He was quiet for a long time, and she started to think that maybe she’d pulled it off when he murmured, “I know you’re not asleep.”

 _Damn._ “How do you know I’m not asleep?” she asked in a voice barely above a whisper - the most she felt she could manage. 

Ian’s hand rubbed a circle over her belly and there was a grin in his voice. “You snore.”

Rose sat up like a shot, whirling around to look at Ian, who was propped on one elbow, grinning. 

“I most certainly do _not_!”

“Do, too.”

“You take that back, Ian Docherty.”

He was still grinning. “Nothing doing. You sound like some sort of construction equipment.” Rose squawked indignantly, and he gave an addendum with a twinkle in his eye, “But cute construction equipment. _Pink_ construction equipment.”

Rose was forced to harrumph and lay back down with her back to him so he couldn’t see that he’d almost made her laugh. He just chuckled and snuggled her close. She didn’t resist his touch. Wasn’t sure she’d have been able to if she tried - she loved him entirely too much. But still...

“You hurt me, Ian,” she said quietly. 

“I know, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”

“You cursed at me.”

“That was wrong of me. I shouldn’t have done it. Please forgive me.”

She flipped over so that she was facing him, nuzzling into his chest, murmuring that she forgave him. He whispered thanks, then kissed her hair and the two laid quietly for a little while. After a few minutes, though, Ian spoke. 

“Hey, sweetheart?”

“Yeah?”

He tipped her chin up, and the emotion in his blue-green eyes was so thick that Rose worried for a second that she may drown in them. 

“If you don’t want the epidural, we won’t do it. It might kill me to watch you go through that kind of pain, but I’ll do whatever you want, alright? You’re the boss.”

Twin tears leaked from Rose’s eyes. “Thank you.”

“I just need one thing from you.”

She sniffed. “What’s that?”

Ian cupped her jaw and slid his thumb along her cheek. “Promise me - _swear_ to me - that you will never, ever doubt that I have yours and this baby’s best interests at heart, always. Tell me you know that I would never hurt you or _let_ anything hurt you. Either of you.”

Rose buried her face into his chest, sobbing again, and he rested his chin on the top of her head and stroked her back. “You and this baby are the two most important people in my life, Rose Tyler. I’ll do anything to keep the two of you safe. Do you understand?”

She nodded, sniffing, letting herself be comforted by his scent surrounding her. “I understand.”

Ian kissed the top of her head. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

She wanted to ask him ‘for what’ but honestly, she was perfectly happy soaking up the comfort of being wrapped in the arms of the man she loved more than her next breath. She stayed there until he woke her up an hour later, teasing her gently about bulldozers and diggers. The two of them put their pyjamas on, took care of their nighttime routines, then she got right back in the bed, wrapped up in his arms again. This time, she stayed until sunrise.

~*~O~*~

28 February 2012  
Week Twenty-Seven

Ian squeezed Rose’s hand in the foyer of the Mansion on Tuesday night and smiled at her when she broke away to go find her mother while he played pool. He watched her go, unable to help himself, and once she was out of sight, he started towards the billiards room. 

Pete wasn’t there yet when he arrived, and Ian was glad. There were bound to be questions or comments about their visit to Torchwood on Saturday. Ian had made no effort to hide his affection for Rose, and he had been trying to brace himself for whatever his best friend would have to say since then - especially since he’d heard Pete refer to him as the father. 

That alone wouldn’t have been so bad, since Pete knew he was committed to Rose, but Pete wasn’t the only one, others were starting to make the assumption as well.

In fact, last night at this time, he’d been sitting in the floor of one of the Women’s Hospital’s classrooms with Rose between his legs, her hands resting on his knees and her back against his chest. It had been so comfortable, it had felt so _right_ , that he’d seriously considered suggesting they practice at home, just so he could hold her that way a little more. And while Ian had always been a diligent student in every other class he’d taken, he couldn’t resist the temptation to murmur witty commentary about the lesson in Rose’s ear, enjoying the way she squirmed against him and tried to bite back giggles, squeezing his knee sometimes as if to say, ‘behave’. 

But there had been a cloud over the evening - one he should have seen coming. Kelly had referred to the coaches as ‘Dads’, which was true in every case but his and Rose’s. He’d flinched nearly every time she’d done it, knowing that Rose didn’t see him that way, no matter how desperately he wanted to be. He’d sat there last night with his arms around Rose, touching her belly, and he’d wished with all his heart - he’d wished _so fucking much_ \- that he had put the child there that was squirming under his hands. This beautiful baby he loved so much. His Little Face.

He sighed and massaged his forehead for a second, then ran his fingers through his hair and started racking the balls.

Pete came in just as Ian was getting down the break stick, and the two exchanged pleasantries. Conversation was a bit tense, and Ian finally decided, ‘fuck it’.

“Look, Pete, about Saturday --”

“I sacked Staples. Sacked him as soon as I saw you two off. The things he said and did - or _attempted_ to do - were entirely out of line.” Ian started to heartily agree, but Pete continued. “You know, I never had many dealings with Staples. Our paths never really crossed - not often, anyway. First contacts hadn’t been going as well as I’d hoped - hell, Mickey was injured late last week during a first contact.”

“Is he alright?” Ian thought Mickey was a waste of skin, personally, but Rose cared about him, so Ian cared.

“He’s fine. A deep flesh wound.” 

Ian made a mental note to tell Rose she’d won a tenner off of him, glad for the opportunity to ease her mind. 

Pete wasn’t finished. “Typically, when we encounter a new species, we have them checked out by medical, often in the field. Staples was our lead on that. I always wondered what the problem was. Now I guess I know.” 

“Yeah, I can’t imagine the Vulcans or what-the-fuck-ever would want to stick around if they had to deal with an arsehole like that.”

Pete poured a couple of fingers of bourbon into two glasses, then handed one glass to Ian. Each man took a sip, grimacing a little at the burn, and Pete looked Ian dead in the eye. “There was no excuse for the things he said, what he tried to do, the questions he asked, and I’m appalled that he used my daughter - _humiliated_ her - to get at you.”

That confirmed that suspicion, then. He’d wondered if Staples was being a prick because Ian had defied him. It seemed he had.

Pete took another drink. “I’m only sorry I can’t sack him again.”

Ian was surprised, but grateful. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t do it for you. I did it for Rose.”

“Then I’m even more grateful.”

Pete gave Ian a searching look. "I had reservations when she insisted that you come along. I thought about not allowing it. But I have to admit, I'm glad you were there. You kept Rose and the baby safe. Thank you. I owe you."

"You don’t owe me a damn thing. You can trust that I’ll always do everything in my fucking power to keep them safe. No matter what."

Pete just stared at Ian for a second, then tossed back the rest of his bourbon. “I don’t doubt that one bit,” he said, then he put down his glass and picked up his cue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we were talking, and we thought it might be fun to set up a baby pool for Rose's baby. Her birth (and a little beyond) is already written, her birth date was actually decided back in April, so we won't be changing the dates. It's set in stone.
> 
> Go to [this Google doc titled 'Baby Pool'](https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1MIvD_cU2mR2aRB8il-aE_NUhCirrKcPwvVF5I46C32A/edit#gid=152495795). We've got April, May, June and July there for you to choose a date from. Significant, non-spoilery dates are marked. Put your user name (or name) on the date of your choosing and you're all done! The pool will close on February 1, so choose a date soon. The winner(s) gets an epilogue! 
> 
> Also, please enjoy a short story from Ian's past in the comments. We're trying to give you these on holidays and other significant dates, so there are a couple more coming.
> 
> Happy New Year from Rishi and Caed! :)


	43. Chapter 43

29 February 2012

~Ian: _having to work late. ring you later, sweetheart._  
~Rose: _okay. talk soon!_

Rose sighed as she pushed send, more disappointed than she ought to be. She’d hoped to go to the baby store tonight, but it looked like that was out of the question now. Oh, well. An evening in front of the telly wouldn’t hurt anything. 

She stepped out of her classroom and went to the front of the building, where Henry sat reading a newspaper. 

“Bad news, Henry. Ian has to work late, so you’ll have to take me home after all. I’m sorry.”

“It is absolutely no problem to take you home, Rose. You know that. I just have to ring the wife and let her know I’ll be a bit later than usual.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Osgood said, coming up behind them, smiling. “Rose, why don’t you and I go to dinner, then I’ll take you home afterwards? We’ve been saying we were going to hang out for a few weeks and haven’t done it yet. Tonight seems like a good night, yeah?”

A slow smile spread across Rose’s face. She didn’t have any female friends here to speak of. It would be wonderful to indulge in some girl talk. 

She turned to Henry. “Is that alright?”

He looked over at Osgood, then shrugged. “Fine by me. I’ll stay to walk you out though.” 

Rose turned to Osgood. “I have to warn you, if you’re seen in public with me, you’re likely to have your photo taken and the media will probably speculate about who you are.”

“Anything they come up with would be more interesting than the truth, honestly.”

“Are you sure? It’s entirely possible they’ll call you my lesbian lover or something like that.”

Osgood laughed. “I can think of worse things that have been said about me. It’s fine.”

Rose grinned, relieved that Osgood wasn’t afraid to be seen with her. “Is there anything I can do to help you close up the center?”

She shook her head. “Nah. I’ll handle this, you call your da. Won’t be a minute!”

Osgood left to go finish closing up the center, and Rose pulled out her mobile. She didn’t owe Pete any explanation for where she was, but her mother may worry if she didn’t see Ian bringing her home in the next hour or so. So she sent a text to her mother and Pete, telling them that she was out with her friend Osgood and would be home later. 

“Ready?” Osgood asked, tugging on her coat.

Rose grabbed her coat and smiled. “Yep!”

They stepped out into the evening, locking the door to the center behind them, then Henry escorted them safely to Osgood’s older model car.

~*~O~*~

Rose grunted a little when the baby kicked a bit harder than usual and Osgood looked at her from across the table, concerned.

“Are you alright?”

Rose nodded. “I’m fine. This little girl is just feisty. She gets like this sometimes when I’m eating.” She grinned. “Ian says she’s protesting my horrible food choices.”

Osgood looked like she was biting back a smile, but speared another bite of her dinner and asked, “So have you got a name for the baby yet?”

“Not yet. We’ve got some ideas, but there’s only a short list of names we can agree on.”

Rose missed Osgood’s amused tone when she asked, “Who are you agreeing with?”

“Ian,” Rose answered without blinking, and Osgood ducked her head and bit her lip. “I like Heather, he likes Sarah. We both like Anne and Eleanor, but we’re still open to other names.”

Osgood nodded to herself. “So how long have you and Ian been together?”

Rose went stock-still, her eyes wide. “What?”

“I asked how long you and Ian have been a couple?”

God, she hated what she was about to say, but she certainly couldn’t lie. So, as casually as she could, she said, “Oh, we’re not a couple. He’s just a friend.”

Osgood raised an eyebrow. “Really? Because you’ve got the worst case of mentionitis I’ve ever come across.”

“Mentionitis?”

She grinned. “Yes, mentionitis. It’s when you’re mad about someone and they’re on your mind all the time, so you end up mentioning them constantly. Mentionitis.”

Rose was sure that she was blushing brightly enough to light up the restaurant. “That’s not how it is,” she fairly muttered.

Osgood reached across the table and covered Rose’s hand, squeezing it. “It’s okay, you know. I’m not going to judge you for having a crush on an older man.”

She tried to stop her next words, she really did, but they burst out of her anyway. 

“I don’t have a crush on him, I’m in love with him.” 

As soon as she said it, she covered her mouth and stared at Osgood as her eyes filled with tears, completely embarrassed, but her friend just smiled. 

“I figured as much. Go on, then,” she encouraged, leaning forward on her elbows and resting her chin on her hands, “tell me all about it. I’m guessing by your reaction that you’ve kept this a secret?” Rose nodded. “Well, confession is good for the soul. You’ll feel better once you’ve told someone. How long have you been in love with him?”

Rose finally uncovered her mouth. She’d been dying to get this out - now was her chance. She had to trust _someone_ \- she felt like she’d die if she didn’t spill her secret soon, and Osgood had been a good friend so far. Deciding to take the plunge, she took a deep breath. 

“I don’t know how long, honestly. He and I met right after… right after my last relationship ended and just before I found out I was pregnant. He actually kissed me one time, a couple weeks after we met, and I ran away from him. I was so torn up over - yeah. God, I was a disaster. But he offered to be my friend, even though I’d run away from him like that. And he stayed right with me, let me lean on him. He was so good to me. I had him over to mine a couple times a week just to have dinner and watch telly. We got to be closer friends. Then at New Year’s, he kissed me again. Except this time, I didn’t want to run. Afterwards, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Couldn’t stop thinking about _him_. It took me a couple of weeks, but it finally occurred to me that I was mad about him, that I wanted to be with him.” 

She paused, sniffling a little, and Osgood asked, “If you want to be with him, why aren’t you with him?”

“I’m pregnant,” Rose said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

“I don’t think he cares.”

Rose thought back to the antenatal class and the way he’d cringed when Kelly referred to him as ‘Dad’. “He cares,” she said in a deadened voice.

Osgood didn’t say anything for a minute and Rose just steeped in her own thoughts. Then the other woman said, “Don’t think about the reasons why not, just think about what you want. Do you truly want to be with him?”

“Yeah,” she whispered. “I do.”

“Have you considered talking to him about it?”

“And what would I say?”

“Oh, I don’t know, tell him the truth?”

“I couldn’t possibly. He’d either feel like he had to take on the responsibility of me and my daughter, or he’d leave.”

Osgood grinned. “Or, option C, he tells you he loves you, too. It’s pretty clear that he has feelings for you.”

She was fairly sure he did and it was clear he cared about her daughter, too. But she’d turned Mickey down because she wanted a father for her baby, not a tolerant stepfather, and she didn’t know where Ian fell on the subject. 

Before she could say anything about it, Osgood said, “And he rubs your belly all the time. Every time I’ve ever seen him come in the center, if the two of you are standing and talking, he’ll just stroke your bump like he’s not even thinking about it. Like it’s automatic. And that’s not even touching the fact that he’s helping you to name her...”

Rose flushed a little bit. “Yeah?”

“I’m just saying; it looks to me like he cares about your baby, too. I don’t think ‘taking you on’ as you put it would be such a drag to him.”

The baby kicked again, making Rose flinch and blessedly distracting her from thinking about what Osgood was saying. She rubbed her belly, willing the baby to stop kicking her so hard, and took a deep breath.

“What time is it?”

Osgood quirked a grin. “I made you uncomfortable. I’m sorry. We don’t have to talk about it again, but I’m here if you want to confide in someone, alright? And it’s half seven.”

“I should probably get home soon,” Rose mused. If Ian got done early enough, he may come over, and she’d need to be there.

Osgood flagged the waiter. “Let’s get you home, then.”

~*~O~*~

Twenty minutes later, they were nearly to the mansion, and Rose was laughing so hard she was having difficulties telling the story Ian had told her.

“...so then Fergus says, ‘Like my kilt? Wait until you see my bagpipe.’”

Osgood howled with laughter. "What was Ian doing during all this?"

"He claims he was just watching his cousin make a fool of himself, but I'd bet good money he was inching his own kilt up his leg to be funny." She pointed at the intersection coming up. “Oh, turn here, this is my road.”

Rose directed a still-giggling Osgood to the mansion, and then to the cottage. She was absolutely thrilled when the headlights landed on Ian’s car sitting in her little driveway. 

“Is that Ian?” Osgood asked. 

“That’s his car, yeah,” she answered, biting her lip and trying not to sound as excited as she felt.

Osgood chuckled and pulled her car to a stop. “This was fun, Rose. We should do it again.”

“Yes!” Rose answered excitedly. “Sometime soon.” She leaned across the center console to give Osgood a hug. “Thank you. I needed some girl time.”

“Anytime,” she said with a squeeze, then let Rose go. “Now go. Get inside and spend the evening with your doctor.”

Rose stiffened for just a second, then shook it off and smiled again. “Will do. See you Wednesday!”

She got out of the car and went to the side door, punching in the code. Once she had the door open, she waved to Osgood, who started to pull away. Then she went inside, closed the door behind her and called for Ian. He didn’t answer when she called and didn’t seem to be anywhere in the cottage. 

The mansion. He must have gone up to the mansion. 

She sat down her purse at the kitchen table and started towards the mansion, determined to find Ian and get him all to herself for a little while.

~*~O~*~

Ian pulled up at the cottage with a sack of dumplings and narrowed his eyes a bit at how dark it was. It added to his growing sense of alarm, since Rose hadn’t returned his texts or answered when he rang a little bit ago. He hopped out of the car, let himself into the side door, flipped on the lights, and called for her, thinking perhaps she’d laid down after work. There was no answer, so he sat the food down and scurried down the corridor to her bedroom.

Empty.

He shouted her name now, afraid, getting no answer. Without waiting another second, he dashed out of the door and up to the mansion, letting himself in and doing his best not to scream for Rose. Later, he figured he probably undid at least a year’s worth of work when he snapped at one of the maids, demanding to know where Rose was. When she said that Rose wasn’t here, he asked even more rudely where Pete was. The maid said he was in his study, and Ian took off without another word. 

He didn’t pause before he opened the door to Pete’s study and let himself in. 

“Rose is missing,” he announced, his heart in his throat, startling his best friend. He dragged his hands through his hair over and over again, at a loss for what to do.

Pete spoke into the phone, telling the person on the other end that he’d call them back, then ended the call and put his feet down from the desk. “Rose is what now?”

“She’s _missing_ , she’s fucking _missing_!”

“Why do you say that?”

Ian thought he was going to explode out of sheer terror. A slideshow of visions flashed through his mind - things Rose could be going through, each more terrible than the last. He felt himself trembling. “She’s not at the cottage, she hasn’t answered texts or calls, and that’s not like her at all. Henry was supposed to bring her home, but I have no idea where she is.”

“Calm down, Ian. Take a deep breath. I know where she is.”

He froze. “Where is she? Is she safe?”

“She’s perfectly fine. She went to dinner with Osgood.”

Every emotion under the sun coursed through Ian but the loudest thought in his chaotic mind at that moment was, “She’s okay? The baby’s okay?”

“Yes. They’re safe.” 

Ian stumbled over to one of Pete’s armchairs and collapsed into it, leaning forward on his knees and breathing heavily. _She’s safe. They’re safe._

“Osgood offered to take Rose out to dinner after work. Rose needs friends, I’m sure you’ll agree with that, so she dismissed Henry for the evening and went with Osgood.”

Ian was on his feet again in a second, blisteringly angry. “Do you mean to fucking tell me that son of a bitch _left her_ unprotected with another woman on the _goddamn council estates?!_ ”

Pete put up his hands placatingly. “Ian --”

“Sack him, Pete. Get rid of him or I swear to God, the next time I see him, I might commit a felony.”

“Calm down --”

“ _I will not fucking calm down_! He left her - a fucking pregnant heiress - on the council estates! Do you have any idea what could have happened to her or the baby? They could have been fucking killed! Or worse!”

"Ian, breathe. Osgood works for me. She's with Torchwood. Henry knew it was safe to leave Rose with her."

Ian was stunned, struck completely dumb, and the room was silent for several seconds. Finally, he got out, "You-- why the _fuck_ wouldn't you tell me?!"

"Why would I?"

"I would have --" he stumbled, not quite sure how to finish that thought.

"Are you going to stand there and tell me that you wouldn't have sat in that building four days a week just to make sure she was safe if you'd known?"

Ian didn't respond. He'd rather not lie to his best friend.

“There’s a reason Rose is working in that particular center. It’s somewhat of a recruitment center - searching out and doing early training with potential future agents. When Rose told me what she wanted to do, that she wanted to teach art in a community center, I pointed her towards Osgood.”

“You orchestrated this whole thing,” Ian said, stunned. 

“I urged Osgood to consider it. She’d been looking to expand the center’s offerings, so it was a good opportunity for her to do just that.”

“Does Rose know?”

“No.”

He stared at Pete. “You honestly fucking expect me to keep this secret from her?”

“No, I don’t expect you’ll be able to. If you feel the need to tell her, I won’t blame you.”

Ian rubbed his forehead. “She’s going to be so fucking upset.”

Pete sighed. “Let her be upset with me then.”

“Uh oh. What’d you do that Mum is going to be upset over?” Rose asked, rounding the corner into the study, grinning a little. “Do you need me to run interference?”

Ian couldn’t help it, he crossed the room and pulled her into his arms, holding her close. He lowered his head to hers, kissing the top of her head then letting his lips rest there while he held her with his eyes closed, rocking a little. Those few minutes he’d thought she was missing had been so terrifying, so awful…

“Are you okay?” she asked him quietly, hugging him back.

“I didn’t know where you were. Scared me.”

She chuckled and squeezed him. “I’m a lot tougher than you give me credit for. I can generally handle myself. You’d be shocked if I told you some of the things I’ve done.”

“I know you’re tough, sweetheart.” He kissed the top of her hair again, then stroked her hair back from her face, still holding her. “That won’t stop me worrying about you and this little girl.”

Pete cleared his throat from behind them and while it startled him a little, he still held onto her for another couple of seconds before he let go, then he grabbed her hand, still needing to touch her. She beamed up at him and he relaxed just a little. 

“Did you have a good time with Osgood?” Pete asked.

Rose nodded, smiling. “It was great to have girl talk, you know? She’s _so_ nice and _really_ clever. It’s nice to have a friend. She’s really great.”

Ian ached, torn, not wanting to keep a secret from Rose, but not wanting to steal her sunshine, either.

“She is great. That’s why I hired her.”

Ian gaped at his best friend. Rose blinked, clearly surprised. “You hired her?”

“Four years ago. She’s a Torchwood agent, charged with shaping and recruiting young potential agents. When you said you wanted to teach children in a community center, I connected the two of you. But I didn’t tell her to hire you, that was her decision. You earned that on your own.”

Ian watched Rose carefully while she processed, waiting for an explosion. She turned to him. “Did you know?”

“I just found out five minutes ago,” he told her. “I had no idea.”

“What does she know?” Rose asked Pete. “What clearance does she have?”

“She knows you’re the director’s daughter and couldn’t work as a field agent while you were pregnant.”

“She doesn’t know about the other universe or… any of that?”

“No.”

Rose went quiet again, her hand still in Ian’s. He traced his thumb along the back of her hand, wanting to soothe her, hoping against hope he hadn’t just witnessed the complete implosion of Pete and Rose’s relationship.

She looked up at Pete and asked him quietly, “Is she on a protective detail for me?”

“No, that’s not her assignment. But you know very well that as a fellow Torchwood agent, she’s got your back.”

Rose nodded. “So you did this to protect me?”

“Yes.”

Ian was shocked when she let go of his hand, walked quickly across the room and hugged Pete. Pete was even more shocked, but managed to get his arms around her for a second before she ended the hug.

“Thank you,” she said, then went back to Ian, taking his hand. “If you’ll excuse us, though, Pete, Ian brought dinner and it’s sitting on my counter.”

“You just ate,” Ian exclaimed.

“Yeah, but I didn’t have _dumplings_. Let’s go.”

He could deny her nothing, so he just shook his head and waved to his best friend as he followed her out.


	44. Chapter 44

1 March 2012

Ian held Rose’s hand as he drove through town, stroking her thumb idly - and anxiously. The store they were about to pull up to would be full to the brim with clothes, bibs, pacifiers and various other things that would say “Daddy’s Girl”, and Ian would have to walk right by them, as if he didn’t see, as if he didn’t want to grab one of everything. He’d spent the entire day up to this point steeling himself for what he was about to do, telling himself that Rose would not appreciate him gazing wistfully at those things, so he’d resolved to do his best to ignore them. He just hoped that she wouldn’t want to stop and look at the “Mummy’s Girl” merchandise that was sure to be displayed right next to it. 

He sat up in his seat as soon as he parked the car, looking around the car park and street. “Looks like we might actually get away with this.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I don’t see any fucking paparazzi around.”

Rose snorted. “I don’t care if they’re queued up around the block, so long as they keep their distance. I just don’t want them to crowd me.”

He looked at her like a dog that had just heard a strange noise. “You really don’t care?”

“We’re not doing anything wrong,” she pointed out. “We have every right to be here.” 

“That’s true.” Ian shut the car off, hopped out, ran around to her side and opened the door to help her out. Automatically, her hand went into his and she smiled up at him. He squeezed her hand. 

“C’mon. Let’s go pick out some stuff for Hyacinth.”

Rose laughed, not even bothering to correct him anymore, and he smiled at her happiness while they started across the car lot. 

Ian had been an OB/GYN for twenty years and had been around countless babies, but he’d never had occasion to come to a baby store. His first impression was that it was a vast sea of pastels. There was a lavender desk to the left of them, just inside the entrance, labeled ‘REGISTRY’, and the smiling woman manning the desk called out to them. 

“Hello! Welcome to Cradle. Would you like to create a registry today?”

He looked down at Rose, who shook her head. “No, thank you. We’re just looking.”

The woman’s smile faded and she peered at them. “Aren’t you…?”

“No, but we get that a lot. Thank you!” Rose said loudly, tugging Ian further into the store. He couldn’t help but smirk. 

“So what are we looking at first?” he asked, looking around at the various sections. 

“Whatever we come to first.”

Ian chuckled. “That sounds like a good plan to me.”

The first section was bathing and feeding, and Rose skipped right over the feeding area and went towards the bathing.

“Don’t you want to look at bottles?” he asked.

“No, I’m going to breastfeed.”

“That’s wonderful. It’s best for her. Still, sweetheart, you should have at least a couple of bottles.”

“I don’t plan on giving her formula.”

“That’s fine,” he explained patiently, “but if you have bottles, someone else can feed her expressed milk while you rest sometimes. And besides,” he said when she started to argue. “Don’t you think your Mum would enjoy feeding her on occasion?” His voice and eyes dropped almost shyly. “I know I would.”

Rose just looked at him for a second, and he scrambled to think of a way to backtrack what he’d said. “I mean --”

“I know,” she agreed. “Mum and I have already had very similar talk. I’m not opposed to it, not really, just... Let me do a little research, alright?”

Ian had a fair amount of knowledge on the subject by nature of his job, but he just nodded. “Absolutely,” he agreed. 

“C’mon,” she tugged him a little. “There’s lots to see.”

She wasn’t kidding. 

“Oh my God, Ian, look at all the prams!” 

He saw, and he had to admit, he was surprised by the number of options. He’d looked online, of course, and seen the selection there, but he hadn’t expected it to be nearly as extensive in the store. 

“It’s almost overwhelming,” Rose murmured, looking around, her hand loose in his. 

Ian squeezed it. “We can narrow it down fairly easily. First, you want the highest safety rating on a car seat, if that comes with the pram.”

She gaped at him. “You’ve looked up the safety rating on car seats?”

“I’ve looked up the safety rating on just about everything she’ll need,” he answered, doing his best not to blush. 

To his surprise, Rose’s eyes filled with tears and he was momentarily alarmed. He turned and cupped her cheek, looking down into her eyes worriedly. “Sweetheart, what is it?”

“I don’t know, I just…” A tear fell and Ian wiped it away. “I never would have thought that you’d care enough to…” 

“To do a little internet research on what’s safest for her?” Rose nodded in his hand and he sighed, pulling her close, brushing away the prickle of irritation and hurt he felt. Her arms went around him and she sniffled against his shirt, wetting it. He didn’t care. “I’ve told you, sweetheart. You and this baby are the most important people in the world to me. Of course I want to keep her safe.”

Rose snuffled a little more, then stepped back from him, wiping her eyes and nose. He kissed her forehead. “Better now?”

“Yeah. Wish I didn’t cry so easily, but I suppose the employees of this store are fairly used to customers having hormonal breakdowns on aisle three, huh?”

“More than likely,” Ian chuckled. “Are you ready to look at prams a little more?”

She grinned a little. “I guess you’ve done research on those too, huh?”

“As a matter of fact, I have.”

“I did my own research, you know.”

“I never doubted that you did.”

“Which ones did you like?”

Ian looked around the large aisle and spotted the pram he’d liked best. Grabbing her hand, he pulled her down towards it, and was pleased to see his second and third choice very close by. He pointed them out to her, too. 

“Ian. Be realistic.”

He was confused. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m not exactly making money right now teaching art at the center, and the money I made while I worked at Torchwood ran out. I can’t afford something like this.”

He just blinked at her for a second. “Sweetheart, you’re the Vitex heiress. You have all the money you could ever possibly dream of at your disposal, through your dad.”

“He’s not my dad.”

“He - what? But you called him your father the other day at Torchwood…”

“Yes, because those people think I’m his daughter. But I’m not. He’s been really sweet to me and I appreciate everything he’s done for me and the baby. And we’ve gotten much closer, but he’s still not my dad. That’s Pete’s money.”

“He’s claimed you as his heir and set up an account for you. That’s _your_ money.”

“It’s not, but I use it. There’s no choice, really. But I try not to spend more of it than I _have_ to. I can get a pram without getting the one with all the bells and whistles.”

“It’s not about bells and whistles, it’s about which ones are safest, which ones are best. These three are all rated five stars in Consumer Reports.”

She pointed a little ways down the aisle. “That one there is rated four stars and half the price. If I get that one, I don’t have to spend gobs of Pete’s money.”

“Sweetheart, I’ve known Pete for more than a quarter century. He’s generous to a fault anyway, but if he made you his heir, then he fully intended for that money to be yours.” Her brow furrowed a bit and he took her other hand so that both her hands were in his. “I know you don’t think of him as your father, and I won’t tell you to. That’s your choice. But to his mind, you’re the daughter he never got to have, that the first Jackie cheated him out of. He missed out on every moment of your life until you were an adult. He was never able to provide for you, and you grew up going without. Let him provide for you now. He wants to.”

“Ian --”

Ian debated for half a second, then he jumped. “If you won’t let him, let me.” Rose gaped at him, and he rushed ahead. “This baby girl deserves to have the best of everything, the best money can buy. It would be my honor to buy everything you need, I would fucking _love_ to, but I do wish for his sake that you’d consider using the money that Pete’s given you.”

She blinked up at him and he tried to think of more he could say to convince her. The less expensive options for nearly everything were not nearly as safe or high quality, and Ian didn’t want this baby in anything less than the absolute best. He understood Rose’s objections, but…

“Oh, alright,” she said with a great sigh. “I’ll do it. For you.”

Ian beamed, relieved and overjoyed. “You will?”

She nodded. “I want her to have the best, too, you know. I was never happy about not being able to give it to her. But if you’re sure that I should…”

“I’m absolutely sure.”

“I trust you completely.” 

Ian brought one of her hands up to his lips and kissed the knuckles, full to bursting with love for this woman. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“You’re welcome. Now, do you want to tell me about these three prams you liked so much? Which one is the best?”

~*~O~*~

They’d been through the swings, the travel cots, and a vast array of things to keep infants busy… saucers and jumpers and tummy mats. They’d looked at high chairs and then slings and carriers that would allow someone to carry the baby hands-free - to ‘wear’ her. Ian could barely contain the longing to carry his Little Face around like that, safe and snuggled against him, close as a heartbeat.

He said nothing. 

They’d arrived at the cribs, bedding and nursery furniture. Without any hesitation, Rose waddled over to the rocking chairs, picked the most comfortable-looking one and had a seat, kicking her feet up on the ottoman. Ian grinned at her when she let out an expansive sigh. 

“Tired, sweetheart?”

“Just need a break for a minute. You can go look around, if you want to.”

He scoffed, “Not likely,” then he took a seat in the rocking chair nearest her.

Rose sighed again and laid her head back, closing her eyes and rocking gently. She looked peaceful and content, and he decided he could sit quietly in the furniture section of a baby store for as long as she wanted. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out, seeing a message from Fergus.

~Fergus: _what are you doing?_  
~Ian: _shopping, not that it's your fucking business_  
~Fergus: _your silk stockings got runners?_  
~Ian: _the hell do you want, Fergus?_  
~Fergus: _mam wants to know if you'll come up this weekend_  
~Ian: _I guess so. Why didn't she ring?_  
~Fergus: _beats me. I guess she worried she'd interrupt you and your bird having wild monkey sex_  
~Ian: _fuck you_  
~Fergus: _you’re not my type_  
~Ian: _see you this weekend, dipshit_  
~Fergus: _we’ll get a lager saturday. fox and badger?_  
~Ian: _sounds good._

“Is something wrong?” Rose asked, and Ian turned to see her watching him.

“No, not at all. My Auntie wants me to go up to Glasgow this coming weekend. Fergus was texting to ask me on her behalf.”

“So you’ll be gone this weekend?”

He wasn’t sure, but he could have sworn she sounded a little disappointed. The very thought made his heart gallop. “Yeah, I’ll fly up after work on Friday and get back late Sunday afternoon.”

“Oh.”

“But I’ll have my mobile with me, of course. You’re more than welcome to text anytime. I’d love to hear from you.”

She grinned, looking almost sheepish. “Yeah? Like when Fergus dragged you to the pub?”

“Precisely the same,” Ian chuckled. “So, what do you think we should look at next? When you’re properly rested, that is.”

“I guess I need to pick out a bedroom suite for her nursery.”

“Do you know what you want?”

She patted the arms of the chair she was rocking in. “I want one of these, for sure. This is amazing.”

He laughed. “Noted. But I was talking about a nursery suite. Do you know what you want?”

“Not exactly. I think I want it to be white. The pale pink of the bedding will look better against white.”

Ian knew dick about interior decorating, but that sounded logical.

“And then I suppose I’ll need to order two of whatever I get. At least the crib and changing table.”

His heart slammed in his chest. “Why two?”

“Mum’s going to want to have her at the mansion some. And it’ll be nice for there to be a place to change her nappy and let her have a kip while I’m there. Should probably get a second swing and a high chair, too. They’ll be handy while we’re visiting.”

“Maybe you should get a third of each of those,” Ian suggested entirely too casually, nervous enough to tremble.

Rose laughed. “Okay, two seems a bit excessive, but makes sense. Why would I need three of those things?”

His heart in his throat, his palms sweating, Ian answered her. “I wouldn’t mind having her at my house, too.”

“ _I’ve_ never even been to your house.”

She hadn’t shot him down, and he was elated. Jumping at the opportunity, he said, “Well, let’s fix that. Dinner and The Yard at mine?”

“Tonight?”

“Sure. We’ll go when we leave here.”

Rose’s tongue curled around her teeth. “Are you going to cook for me?”

“I’d be happy to, sweetheart, but it’s a bit late for that. We’ll have to pick up some takeaway on the way home. Would that be alright?”

She grinned at him a little, her eyes narrowed in mock suspicion. “And just what would we be picking up?”

“Ladies’ choice,” he said with a smile. “Whatever you and the baby are craving.”

“That’s a date,” she agreed, then started maneuvering to get out of the chair. “I’d still like to finish browsing, though.”

“Absolutely,” he said, springing to his feet and putting his hand out to help her up. She accepted his help and lumbered to her feet, smiling at him once she was upright. 

“You ready?”

“I’m ready - _oof!_ ” she exclaimed, curling around her belly a little. 

"Is she kicking?"

"Yeah. C’mere." She grinned and reached for his hand, placing it on the far side of her belly so that his arm crossed her body and he had to step closer. Rose’s hand still covered his, presumably keeping it in the right place, and he just cherished the warmth of her skin against his. 

The baby moved, kicking enthusiastically, and Rose grunted a little. He looked up at her, smiling, wide eyed, then bent down further until his face was beside Rose’s bump. "Hello, sweet girl. Hello, Little Face. I know you don’t have much room in there, but try to take it easy on Mummy, okay?"

For just a second, Rose stroked his hand the same way she would stroke her belly, and he looked up at her again. Her eyes were sparkling and she was smiling down at him, and he decided that no man had ever loved a woman the way he loved Rose Tyler. And that no baby had ever been loved as much as he loved the one kicking his palm. 

He murmured to the baby, his lips close to Rose’s belly, _“Ti amo, Little Face, e tua madre, più dei fiori amano il sole.”_

Rose smiled, shaking her head a little. “I have to wonder if the two of you are plotting world domination when you do that.”

“When Dahlia and I rule the world, I promise you’ll be treated like a queen.”

She giggled, and he grinned up at her before he bent back to her belly. _“Sappi che ti amo e non vedo l'ora di incontrarmi.”_ Then, unable to stop himself, he pressed a sweet kiss to her bump.

"Isn’t that sweet," he heard from a few feet away, and both he and Rose spun their heads to see a kindly-looking older woman smiling at the two of them. "Proud daddies renew my faith in humanity."

The moment vanished like a wisp of smoke in a strong wind. Ian straightened and glanced at Rose long enough to see that she was blushing as heavily as he was, then he looked away. But neither corrected the woman. Ian took Rose’s hand - still without looking at her - and they started walking the store again. 

Finally, they came to the largest section of the store - the baby clothes. Rose was clearly excited about this particular merchandise and practically dragged Ian over to the side that was awash in pink - not that he was at all unwilling to go. He’d never given any thought to things like sleepers and gowns, he’d never had a need to, but now all he could do was look around at the tiny clothes and imagine this baby that he loved so much wearing the little pyjamas with bunnies on them or the tiny little smock-and-bloomers outfit trimmed in pink and green. 

But of course, after managing to escape it the entire evening, there they were. And oh, they were even more adorable than he’d anticipated. The pyjamas were white with pale pink polka dots and the words “Daddy’s Baby” were embroidered across the chest. It took everything in him not to grab it and rush to the register. He ached with longing at the thought of this baby wearing those polka-dot pyjamas. But he forced himself to turn away, shaking his head. 

Clearing his expression, he squeezed Rose’s hand. “You’ve got some clothes for her, yeah?”

“Yeah. Mum and I have been to a couple of other baby stores, not as big as this one. But I haven’t bought much. Just hasn’t seemed real, you know?”

“Does it seem real now?”

She looked up at him and the look in her eyes was something he couldn’t quite place. “Yeah, kinda. But I’m afraid I’m going to wake up.”

Ian kissed her hand. “I promise, you’re awake. What kind of clothes do you need?”

“Everything, I suppose,” she answered, looking around. 

He took another look around, too, and grinned when he spotted some footie pyjamas hanging on the rack a few feet away. They were pale pink and decorated with tiny rosebuds. He went over to grab the smallest size, then came back to Rose. “How about these?”

She reached up to touch the foot of the pyjamas, smiling and shaking her head a little. “You’re never going to let go of the rosebud thing, are you?”

“You love them. Admit it.”

“They are adorable,” she agreed.

Ian stepped forward with the pyjamas and laid them on Rose’s bump, adjusting them and tilting his head from one side to the other, judging his work. 

“What are you doing?”

“Well, you’ve got to try on clothes before you buy them, sweetheart,” he told her, his eyes twinkling. 

Rose laughed loudly and as always, the sound of her joy was like music. “You’re daft,” she accused him, and he was sure that the smile on his face was absolutely ridiculous. She took the pyjamas off of her tummy and hung them up on the rack a few feet away, grabbing Ian’s hand. “C’mon. I’m ready to go.”

“Are you alright?” he asked, slightly nonplussed. He’d expected to be at the store for a while longer.

“I’m fine. Mostly just hungry and too excited to wait to see your place. Can we come back another time?”

Ian had to admit, he was incredibly excited about taking Rose to his, too. “Absolutely, sweetheart. Let’s get you fed.” 

Even the photographer on the opposite block couldn’t diminish his mood.


	45. Chapter 45

1 March 2012 (cont.)

Rose was oddly nervous in the car on the way to Ian’s, and hoped he didn’t feel her hand shaking in his. She’d been curious about where he lived for a long time, and she was finally getting the chance to see his home. But now that the time had come, she was a little anxious. Maybe it was silly, but it felt like a big step in their relationship - and she supposed it was. The man she loved was inviting her into his personal space. People invited each other to their homes all the time, she chided herself. There wasn’t any logical reason for her to feel this way. But she couldn’t help it. Something about this felt… monumental.

They were heading in the same general direction as the mansion, which Rose figured made sense. She knew that Ian made good money as a doctor and he’d mentioned once that his parents had been well-to-do, so it stood to reason that he’d live in one of the better sections of town. The houses that they were passing were nicer than she’d expected, though, and for the first time, she wondered just how well-off Ian actually _was_.

“Damn,” he burst out, startling her out of her thoughts, banging the steering wheel with the heel of his hand. “I completely forgot to stop for dinner.”

“I’m really not that hungry. I’d be fine to skip dinner,” she said, then curled her tongue around her teeth playfully when he gave her a look. 

“There’s an Italian place not far from my neighborhood that delivers.”

“Pizza?”

Ian chuckled. “No, not that kind of Italian. It’s not quite authentic, but it’s as close as I’ve found. We could order in from there, if you’d like.”

“That sounds good, but I don’t know what on Earth I’d order.”

His thumb stroked the back of her hand. “I’ll be happy to order something I think you’d like, if you want me to.”

“I don’t know,” she teased, squeezing his hand. “That’s a lot of trust I’d be putting in you.”

He grinned at her. “I’ll do my best not to let you down.” Rose giggled and he brought her hand up to kiss her knuckles. “It’s a shame we don’t have time for me to cook for you.” 

“Well, there’s always next time,” she said, then backpedaled, horrified at her bravado. “That is, if you even want me to come back sometime.”

“Sweetheart, you’re welcome in my home anytime. I should have invited you over ages ago, but, well, I didn’t know if you’d want to come with me.”

Oh, she wanted to _come_ with him, alright. Thank God it was dark and he couldn’t see the bright blush that was staining her cheeks. Her mind went straight to the gutter nearly constantly lately.

“I’d’ve loved that,” she said quietly, but as sincerely as she’d ever been about anything. 

They were quiet for a few seconds, then Ian said, “Now I have to figure out what to make for you when I bring you back. I make a really good chicken parmesan, we could have that sometime. My broiled salmon is good, and I could make a crème brûlée. It’s not quite fish fingers and custard, but it might do.” 

She giggled a little and Ian looked pleased with himself as he turned into a neighborhood. Rose peered at the sign. "Cricklewood. What's a Cricklewood?"

"It's this section of town."

"I’ve never heard of such.”

"Well, what’s it called in - in the universe you came from?"

She snorted. "Like I ever came to a neighborhood this posh."

“You live behind a fucking mansion, Rose.”

“Yeah, but only for the last few months. Before that, I spent my entire life on the estates.” She didn’t mention her two years on the TARDIS, when her home had been almost infinite. Ian hated the Doctor, she knew, and she didn’t want to damage his good mood. 

Before she knew it, Ian was turning into a driveway towards a large house on top of a hill. It was brick, two stories, rather large, but fairly non-descript. The front lawn was perfectly manicured, and Rose was almost certain he had a service come in and do that. She didn’t see when he’d have time, otherwise. 

“This is you?” she asked, hoping she didn’t sound too awed.

“This is me.” He pressed a button just over his head to open a garage, then pulled his car in slowly. Before she knew it, he’d parked and was beside her door, opening it and offering a hand to help her out. That hand was becoming more and more useful as she became more and more unwieldy. 

Ian unlocked the door and pushed it open, going ahead of her and flipping on the light. She walked in slowly, looking all around, but relaxed a little when Ian returned to close the door behind her, slipped his arm around her waist and guided her a bit while she looked around. 

He’d brought her in through the side door, which opened into a large kitchen. His countertops were marble - a phenomenon Rose had never seen until six months ago - and there was a large island in the center of the kitchen with three barstools. A small kitchen table sat to the side near the door to what looked like a formal dining room. Immediately to her left was a staircase, and she glanced up the stairs but it was dark and she couldn’t see anything. 

“These are just the back stairs. The actual staircase is by the front door.”

She just blinked, amazed that anyone could say something like that so casually. “Ah.”

“Can I show you around?”

Rose blushed. “Can you show me the loo?”

Ian laughed and kissed the side of her head. “I’ll be happy to. And I’ll order dinner, yeah?”

She nodded and he led her through the kitchen, showing her the loo just past the kitchen. Thanking him, she ducked inside and did her business. After she washed her hands, she came back out and bit her lip. To the right seemed to be the lounge; though the room was dark, she could make out the built-in bookshelves and a large flat-screen telly. She desperately wanted to explore, but they would be watching The Yard in just a few minutes, she was sure she’d get her chance. 

Ian’s voice came from the kitchen, and she turned to her left to follow it. He was speaking Italian again, and winked when he saw her enter the room. Her insides twisted pleasantly and she hoped she didn’t blush. She loved listening to him speak this way, so lyrical and beautiful. The sound of it had invaded her thoughts - and Rose frequently imagined him speaking to her that way, declaring himself to her, professing his desire for her. Very, very frequently.

She shook her head to clear it. Now was _not_ the time to be thinking about _that_!

Something on the silver refrigerator caught her eye, and she took a step over to get a closer look. It was the ultrasound printout she had given him several weeks ago, telling him it was for his fridge. Its presence wasn’t really a surprise - what _was_ a surprise was the lack of anything else on the fridge. No receipts, no menus, no photos. Just her daughter. 

Rose couldn’t help but be warmed by that. 

“Can I fix you a drink?” he offered, hanging up the phone and smiling when she turned around. 

Her grin was mischievous - and she hoped it covered the hearts in her eyes she was sure were there. “I’ll have a glass of moscato.”

“Ha-ha, nice try.” Rose giggled and he grinned. “So cheeky. How about I put the kettle on, then show you around? By the time we’re done, the tea will be ready and it’ll be time for The Yard.”

“Sounds perfect,” she smiled. 

Ian flipped the switch on the kettle, took Rose’s hand, kissed it, then led her towards the lounge.

~*~O~*~

Ian wasn’t sure he’d ever been as content in his entire fucking life as he was in that very moment.

The whole evening had been wonderful. He’d showed Rose around his house, taking immense pleasure in her blush when she saw her painting hanging in a prominent place in the lounge. Then he’d started towards the main staircase, stepping through his study to get there. She’d spotted his guitars on their stands over to the side of the room as they walked through, and asked him to play for her. He promised to do so the next time she was over, and sealed it with a kiss to her hand. 

There were four large bedrooms upstairs and a great room that he’d always intended to turn into another lounge, but never got around to - he didn’t really need another fucking lounge. He hadn’t been able to meet her eye when he’d shown her his bedroom; she would have been able to see the longing in his eyes, and that would never do. Not a longing for sex (although God knew he _did_ crave to touch her, to taste her), but to have her comfortable and cozy in his space. It was that intimacy with her he wanted. She’d probably run like hell if she ever figured that out.

Or maybe not. 

They’d enjoyed dinner in front of the telly, then Rose had scooted close to him, just like she normally did, and something in him had uncoiled. She’d kicked off her shoes, curled her legs onto the couch under herself as best she could, and leaned against him, one hand on the center of his chest. They’d talked through their show, the way they always did, until Rose’s answers started getting sluggish, and she finally completely stopped answering. A couple minutes later, she was snoring quietly, and he thought his heart would burst.

He stroked her arm lightly now with the tips of his fingers, wishing he could actually touch her skin - wishing a lot of things, actually. He wished that this house was home for her, that this was just like any other night, and that when he woke her in a little while, it would be to take her to bed, not take her to the cottage. 

But he didn’t have to do anything right now. For this moment, he could simply enjoy her nearness and let himself indulge in a little fantasy where this was his life. A fantasy in which he was cuddled on the couch with his pregnant, sleeping wife before bed. He flipped the telly over to the news and toed his shoes off to help it feel more real. It wouldn’t hurt anything to pretend that she was his for a little while while she slept. No one need ever know.

The time crept by, however, and Rose didn’t wake. He absolutely didn’t want to wake her up, for several reasons, and was perfectly willing to sit in the corner of his couch all night and let her sleep on him. If she was comfortable and resting easy, that was all he cared about. 

But he needed to let her parents know that she wasn’t in the cottage. It wouldn’t be fair to worry them. As gently as possible, he dug out his mobile, unlocked it, and dialed Pete.

“Ian! What’s going on?”

"Nothing you need to worry about. I've got Rose with me at mine, I'm going to keep her here tonight.”

“That’s not necessary. I can send Henry out to pick her up.”

“No, she's asleep. Don't have the fucking heart to wake her.”

“It’s a bad idea, Ian -”

“Oh what the fuck ever, I've stayed at her place loads of times and you didn't have a fucking duck.”

Pete’s voice dropped slightly. “I’m not crazy about that, either.”

Ian ignored him. “I'll bring her home in the morning.”

“If you’re sure.”

“Yeah.”

Pete sighed. “Okay.”

“Yeah. Bye."

He hung up the phone and Rose stirred beside him. "I'm sorry if I disturbed you, sweetheart."

"S'ok. I need to get home."

"No. I rang your - Pete. I told him you were asleep and staying here tonight." She looked at him, her eyes wide, and he couldn't place her expression. "Are you - is that alright?"

"Yeah, yeah. Fine. Just… I, um, I don’t have anything to sleep in."

He grinned at her and stroked her arm. “I have t-shirts and pyjama pants.”

She looked down at her bump then back up at him. “Will they fit me?”

“I’m certain they will. Do you want to go to bed now?"

She seemed to be considering. "I… I'm happy here, really."

"You can share my bed, sweetheart. It’s plenty big. Or you can sleep in one of the spare rooms if you want."

Rose flushed a little. "No, I’ll stay with you, if that’s alright. But can we go up in a little while? I like this."

He kissed her forehead. "Whatever you want, sweetheart."

~*~O~*~

_His mouth closed on the side of her neck and he nibbled gently as he moved inside her. She was close… so damn close, but he wasn’t letting her fall. Her hand tightened around his shoulder._

_"Ian, please."_

_She felt him smirk against her skin before he lifted his head. "You ready, sweetheart?"_

Finally. _"God, yes."_

_He changed the angle of his hips slightly, never losing the rhythm he’d established, but that was all she needed. A few well-placed thrusts later and she shattered._

_"Ian! Oh my god. IAN! YES! Fuck."_

She was ripped from the dream by a hand on her shoulder.

"Rose. Rose! It's alright, sweetheart. I'm here."

She tried to get her bearings, confused and disoriented. "What happened?"

"You were having a nightmare. You -- you called for me."

That was no nightmare. Not by a long shot. Her face flamed with embarrassment and she was grateful for the darkened room.

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

"N-no." Her voice trembled, but not from fear. 

He slid his arm underneath her neck and cupped her shoulder, shushing her softly as he tried to get her to turn towards him. Rose remained stiff, the feeling of him so close not helping to dispel the vivid remnants of the dream.

"It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re safe. I’m here."

As her breaths slowed, her body still thrumming with arousal, Rose began to realize that there was another emotion hidden beneath it, _disappointment_ that she’d missed out on him following her into bliss.

She turned to face him and rested her hand on his side, fighting the urge to grab hold and pull him closer.

"There you go. That’s better. Relax, sweetheart," he whispered, running his hand over her hair. "You're safe with me. You're safe with me and you always will be."

Rose certainly _felt_ safe in his arms. She always did. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she inhaled the scent of him - that smell she loved so much - and did her best to calm her rampaging thoughts. 

Nothing was working though, and being surrounded by him only seemed to intensify the throbbing need between her thighs. 

There was no hope he’d fall asleep and she’d be able to take care of it, the occasional reassurances he kept murmuring in her ear made it clear that he was just as awake as she was - not to mention the completely unhelpful mixture of fresh arousal and horror that coursed through her at the thought of getting herself off while lying beside him in his bed - and she began seriously considering running off to the loo for a moment. With as much time as she spent in there lately, he’d believe the excuse.

No. She could handle it. She was Rose Tyler and she ate impossible for breakfast. Surely she could master her own body. Right? Right.

But if he whispered ‘sweetheart’ into her ear one more time, she was going to rip off the clothes she’d borrowed and throw herself at him. And if he started whispering in _Italian_ \- God help them all.

~*~O~*~

Rose squirmed until the moment she fell asleep again, her legs moving as though she was still trying to run away from whatever had plagued her dreams, but even then Ian didn’t let her go. The sound of her screaming his name had startled him awake, and now he was still tired but he was no longer sleepy.

He smoothed back her hair again, moving with her when her hand tightened on his side and she nestled closer to him, glad to be able to give her the comfort she appeared to need. Her subconscious _knew_ him and trusted him. She’d cried out for _him_ , not the fucking Doctor. It felt like victory.

But it was victory tempered with concern. Months had passed since the last time Rose had had a nightmare, and that she’d had one _now_ while spending what he hoped was the first night of many in his home - in his bed - worried him. The fact that she wouldn’t tell him about it, doubly so. Hopefully, in time, she would trust him completely.

He laid there, watching over her dreams, until he, too, fell asleep.


	46. Chapter 46

6 March 2012

Rose’s appointments with Dr. Ross were always on Tuesdays and usually close to lunchtime so she and Ian could go eat together after they were done. But this particular morning she had to be at the office much earlier than usual to do a screening for gestational diabetes, as requested by the new doctor at Torchwood she’d yet to meet. Rose had refused to agree to the test until after she could talk to Ian and get his input. Despite his deep, deep misgivings in dealing with Torchwood, he assured her that it was perfectly safe, but asked her to have it done in his office where he trusted the staff. Rose had told Pete and after a brief discussion, he’d agreed. The test had been scheduled under Dr. Ross’ supervision for this morning.

Ian had gone with her to see Dr. Ross, as always, and the baby was perfectly fine. The news that her baby was healthy and growing well never failed to be a huge relief to Rose - and to Ian, too. He’d squeezed her hand, smiling brightly at her, then brought it up and kissed the back of it. 

After her appointment he’d escorted her to the lab to help her get settled in for her three-hour glucose screening. Ian had assured her that the test was perfectly normal and commonplace, that quite a lot of women needed the test, but she couldn’t help but be a little nervous. He’d stayed with her while she had her blood drawn to establish a baseline, knowing how much she hated needles, and Rose had wanted to kiss him out of gratitude - and for several other reasons. She didn’t, of course, and he helped her get settled into the tiny little waiting area outside the lab after she drank the awful, sickly-sweet liquid. 

She’d had to practically shoo him away, telling him that she was fine; she had a Jack Nolan book on her phone to read and he needed to get back to work. After he’d clucked over her a little more, he bent over, kissed the top of her head quickly, then took off back to work. 

Rose read her book quietly until an hour later when he showed up again so he could be with her when they drew blood. She very nearly cried at his thoughtfulness - really, he was the kindest man she’d ever known, and she couldn’t imagine loving another person more than she loved him. 

Ian was only able to stay for a couple of minutes after they drew the blood and made her drink the liquid the second time, then he dropped a kiss to her hair and told her he’d be back. Rose didn’t miss the curious glances from the lab technicians through the glass door this go-round, but did her best not to blush. 

She wondered if he was going to come back at the end of the second hour, too, but as the time drew nearer and nearer and Ian didn’t show, Rose started to worry. When the lab technician called her name, she stood up and walked into the lab with her shoulders as squared as she could make them, reminding herself that she was Rose Tyler, she’d faced down dictators and entire alien races and the devil himself. Surely she could handle this little needle.

She sat down in the chair, noticing that her hand was shaking when she pushed her sleeve up. The lab technician, Sandy, was chattering pleasantly at Rose, white noise that sounded like it was coming from down inside a barrel. She heard, however, when another technician called from across the lab, “Hey, Sandy! Wait a minute on Tyler. Dr. D just rang, he’s on his way. Wants to be here.”

Rose sagged with relief. And a minute later, when Ian came striding into the lab full of apologies, she was so happy to see him she nearly cried again. She reached for him with her free hand and he grasped it, kissing her knuckles while she beamed at him. This time, Rose didn’t care about the looks she got from the lab workers. Ian was here and she felt safe. That was all that mattered. 

Just like before, he was only able to stay for a couple of minutes, then he had to get back to work. But he reminded her of their plans for lunch and told her to decide what she wanted, he’d be back in an hour. Rose settled into the lab’s waiting area again with her Jack Nolan and waited. There were only fifteen minutes left to wait when someone sat down next to her. Rose looked up and was surprised to see Clara smiling brightly at her. 

“Hi!” Clara chirped. 

“Hi there,” Rose answered, her own smile slightly bemused. “What are you doing here?”

“Came to keep you company. Figured you may be bored.”

She wasn’t bored, but was grateful for the company anyway. Clara seemed kind, and it would be nice to get to know her a bit. It seemed important to be on good terms with the people Ian worked closest with. She couldn’t explain why and didn’t bother to try. 

“I was,” she fibbed. “Terribly bored. Thank you for coming to sit with me.”

“My pleasure,” Clara beamed. “I’ve tried to talk to you a couple of times before now, but the Doctor always puts the kibosh on it.”

“Why would he put the kibosh on it?”

“He’s worried about me spending time with you. Afraid of the things I’ll tell you.”

Rose raised an eyebrow. “Do you have things to tell me? Anything I need to know?”

She could have sworn Clara’s eyes twinkled. “Nothing you don’t already know, I think.”

Her tone was knowing and Rose blushed, then changed the subject. “Is he with a patient?”

“Yes, but he’s out of the office. He had to go deliver a baby.” 

Rose immediately felt a burst of anxiety. She hadn’t wanted to do this test unless he was nearby, and now he was going to be gone for the last part of it. She wasn’t worried about lunch or getting home, but she _was_ afraid to step into that lab without him.

Clara didn’t seem to notice Rose’s anxiety. “When he got the call, he immediately started complaining. He said that you had one more draw to go, and you’re afraid of needles.”

“That’s true,” Rose confirmed, nodding. 

“So I’m here to sit with you during your blood draw, so you don’t have to be alone. I’m also going to try to talk you into going to lunch with me and Bill, since you can’t go with the Doctor.”

Rose was stunned by Clara’s thoughtfulness, but asked, “Who’s Bill?”

“My girlfriend. She’s also the assistant director at the Doctor’s other clinic. You’ll like her. She’s sweet.”

The phone in Rose’s hand played Ian’s message tone, and she unlocked it to read the message. 

~Ian: _got called out to a delivery. I can’t come sit with you, sweetheart. I’m so sorry_

She started to type back and Clara put her hand on Rose’s arm to stop her. “Was that the Doctor?”

“It’s Ian, yeah.”

“Don’t tell him I’m here, or that you may go to lunch with us.” Rose blinked at her, surprised, and Clara finished. “I’m not saying keep it a secret, just don’t tell him right now. He’ll be worried about Bill and I corrupting you while he should be worried about his patient.”

That seemed like a good point, so Rose nodded and went back to typing. 

~Rose: _don’t worry about me, I’m fine. see you at mine after work_

“There,” she said as she hit send. “But I do plan on telling him tonight,” she warned Clara. “I don’t want to keep secrets from him.”

Clara’s eyes twinkled again. “And you shouldn’t. Now, about lunch…”

Rose grinned. “Are you sure? A big pregnant woman wouldn’t get in the way?”

“Pregnant women are our job,” she scoffed. “Bill is dying to meet you. Anytime she or I try to get him to talk about you, he shuts us down. So we’re having to go to the source to learn about you.” She grinned and Rose giggled. Clara nudged her shoulder. “C’mon. We’ll let the baby pick what we eat. What’s something you’re craving that the Doctor isn’t letting you have?” Clara misunderstood Rose’s hesitation. “You don’t have to defend him. I know how persnickety he is about diets.”

She giggled at Ian being called ‘persnickety’, but that wasn’t her concern. There was no way in hell Rose was going to request fish fingers and custard with two people she didn’t know very well, so she said, “I’d love a cheeseburger.”

“A cheeseburger it is,” said Clara with a smile, pulling out her mobile. “Let me text Bill so she can meet us there.”

The door to the lab opened and Sandy stuck her head out. “Ready, Rose?”

She took a deep breath and Clara grabbed her free hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “Let’s go do this, then we can get a cheeseburger and gossip about the Doctor.”

Rose giggled and accepted Clara’s help getting to her feet, then smiled at Sandy and said, “Ready.”

~*~O~*~

Ian showed up at the cottage with a pizza that he’d picked up on his way from work and the two sat down on the couch to eat.

“How did the rest of the test go?” Ian asked. “Did you do alright?”

Rose swallowed a bite of pizza. “I did fine. Clara came and sat with me after you left for the hospital.”

Ian choked, and once she realized he was okay, she bit back a grin while she patted his back. “You alright there?”

“I’m fine,” he said, his voice still a bit strangled. “Did you say Clara came to sit with you?”

She nodded. “She was really sweet. She said you’d been worried because I’m afraid of needles and you had to leave, so she came to the lab so I wouldn’t be alone. We chatted for a bit before they called me back.”

“That was sweet of her,” he conceded. “What did you do for lunch? Henry bring you home?” Ian asked, taking another bite of pizza.

“No, then I went to lunch with Clara and met Bill.”

Ian choked again, and Rose couldn’t help her giggles this time. Once he had recovered, “You went to lunch with Clara and Bill?”

“I did! We went to that new burger place you and I have been talking about. It was really good, we should go sometime. You’d love the chips.”

“How did you get there?”

“Henry drove Clara and me. Bill met us there.”

Ian sagged a bit. “Oh, thank God. So Henry was with you.”

Rose tutted. “You worry too much.”

“Sweetheart, as long as the fucking press are hovering around all the time, I will worry myself sick over you and this baby. If I’m being fucking honest, I will _always_ worry myself sick about you and this baby no matter what, so you might as well get used to it.”

Something warm and happy swelled inside her when he said that. To try to draw attention away from what she was sure were her red cheeks, she said, “Bill and Clara are both so sweet. And really funny, too. How come you never let me talk to them?” 

She knew the real reason now: He didn’t want her to hear too much about what he’d been like before Rose met him. It was nearly impossible to reconcile the man sitting beside her, the man she loved, with the person Clara and Bill had described. “Grumpy,” Clara had said, and Bill had nearly snapped her own neck she’d turned so quickly to look at her girlfriend.

Neither of them had been willing to go into much detail, however, and Rose had been left wondering just how “grumpy” he’d been.

Ian stammered for a second while Rose touched her tongue to her teeth, pleased. To spare him, she said, “You know, I’m getting tired of calling her ‘the baby’. What do you say we decide on a name tonight?”

Ian raised an eyebrow. “A final decision?”

“Sure. Not her middle name yet, just her first name so we can call her something when we talk to her. Clearly she can hear us. She gets all excited and kicks the daylights out of me when you talk to her.”

He beamed, obviously proud, and Rose felt that same upswelling of affection. She loved him so very, very much…

“So let’s look at the book,” she suggested, before she could do something stupid like profess her undying love for him. She reached for the book on the coffee table, grunting when her belly got in the way, and like a flash, Ian was there with the book. Rose smiled at him gratefully and he winked before he went back to take a sip of his drink. Her heart fluttered, and then he scooted back into his usual spot and put his arm on the back of the couch. Smiling, she slid into her spot and he draped his arm around her. 

“Ava?” she suggested.

He screwed up his face, like he was considering it. “I don’t know. It doesn’t jump out at me. What about…” He dragged his finger down the page. “Charlotte?”

“It’s cute, I suppose,” Rose shrugged. _Charlotte Docherty_. “I’d be afraid people would call her Charlie.”

Ian chuckled. “Good point. Mia?”

She shook her head. “No. Abigail?”

It was Ian’s turn to shake his head. “No, don’t like that one. Emily?”

"No, no, no. I knew a girl named Emily on the estates. She was a piece of work. Looked like a hobbit.”

Ian chuckled. “That’s not very fucking nice.”

“Neither was she. Sophia?”

"Nah. How about Sadie?"

“I thought you liked Sarah better?”

He shrugged. “I do, but I like Sadie just fine.”

"We’ll put that on the ‘maybe’ list."

Rose flipped the book open to the front cover where she’d been scratching down the names they agreed on. She had already drawn one neat line through all of the boy’s names, and the girl’s list had grown considerably since her last sonogram. Picking up the pen, she wrote in ‘Sadie’.

 _Sadie Docherty._ It was cute. The rhyming in the last syllables wasn’t as obnoxious as some other names she’d heard. 

While she was there, she scratched through ‘Cameron’ since he’d objected so strongly and held her pen poised over ‘Heather’, ready to mark a star beside it. Yes, it was a flower and yes, he’d been driving her spare with flower names, but she loved the way his accent curled around it, and _Heather Docherty_ had such a lovely ring to it.

Her hand loosened and the pen fell, leaving a faint jagged line on the page before settling against the binding. She dragged her eyes over the list again, her heart thudding harder inside her chest as she read each name. Every single one had been chosen because of how it sounded with Docherty as the surname, even the ones in the very beginning, long before she realized that she was in love with him.

Ian tensed and straightened a little. “Sweetheart? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she assured him, shaking it off and smiling at him - she hoped convincingly. “I’ve had an idea.” She clambered to her feet and went to the kitchen, fetching two notepads and another pen. Then she came back to the lounge and handed Ian a notepad and pen. “Here. You write down your favorite names off the shortlist, and I’ll do the same. We’ll see if any match up and decide from there.”

Ian nodded with a grin. “Alright, then.”

The book went beside him on the couch, and Rose sat down on the other side of it. Both of them started writing, and it didn’t take them long before they were done. 

“Have you got a short-short list?” 

“I do,” he confirmed. “You go first. What names do you like?”

“Sadie, Eleanor and Heather.”

“Aww, no Rosebud?”

She swatted him with her notepad while he flinched dramatically, laughing. 

“What about you? What’s on your list?”

“Hannah, Sarah, and Eleanor.”

“HES,” Rose mused.

“Pardon?”

“We picked names with the same beginning letters. H, E, S.”

“Hmm. So we did. But we both like Eleanor, huh?”

Rose nodded, biting her lip, excited. “Yeah.”

“Is that going to be her name? Eleanor?”

“What do you think?”

“I think it’s gorgeous, sweetheart.”

“I think so, too.”

Ian’s eyes twinkled for a second and he grinned. “Let’s let the little lady decide, hmm?” He leaned across and bent down, putting his lips close to her bump and stroking it. “Hey there, sweet baby. What do you think about the name ‘Eleanor’, huh? Give me a kick if you like it.”

Within two seconds, Rose jumped a little, then beamed down at Ian. “Seems she likes it.” Then she squirmed. “Seems she likes it _a lot_.”

He laughed happily and stroked her belly in a circle. “Settle down, Eleanor. Take it easy on Mummy, okay?” Then he started to sing the lullaby he’d sung to her at Valentine’s Day, and Rose did her best not to melt. 

Eleanor settled down quickly with Ian singing to her, and when he finished, Ian pressed a sweet kiss to her belly and stroked it one more time. He sat up, smiling at her, and Rose felt tears pricking. He slid back into his seat.

“C’mere, sweetheart.”

She didn’t waste any time before she was cuddled up next to him. Ian let one arm drape around her and rubbed her belly with his free hand, kissing her hair, and Rose closed her eyes, wishing she could live in this moment forever.

~*~O~*~

Ian raised his hand in farewell to the night nurse as he headed out the door, then grabbed for his mobile to check the time. Coming up on two a.m. He should go home, but given how disappointed Rose had been the last time he’d done that instead of going back to the cottage, he got into his car and headed towards the mansion. He’d just have to be especially careful not to wake her.

His mind wandered while he drove. As it always seemed to, it went to Rose. He did his very best not to compare Rose and Jenn. There _was_ no comparison, really, they were like a photo and its negative. When he’d met Jenn, pursued her, and married her, he’d thought he was in love with her. He’d thought he had the real thing. Now, with the benefit of hindsight, he realized that he had been infatuated. He knew because he was madly in love with Rose, and it was a completely different thing. 

Rose was nothing like Jenn. She was a kinder, softer, more generous woman than Jenn had ever been - hell, she was kinder, softer, and more generous than any woman Ian had ever known. But everyone had their limits, and Ian was worried that eventually Rose would reach hers. He’d had to leave her behind earlier today (well, yesterday) so he could go deliver a baby while she had to face the last stage of the glucose test on her own. Thank God for Clara. He owed her a nice lunch or something. 

That had been bad enough, but then he’d gotten called out an hour after they’d gone to sleep. 

How long was she going to put up with this? Jenn had complained the very first time it had happened, but Rose had yet to say a word. Would she always be so understanding? He could only hope that she would be. 

He pulled into the mansion’s driveway and veered off to the right towards the cottage. He parked the car, went to the side door and unlocked it, then tiptoed into the cottage as quietly as possible, so as not to disturb Rose. It was easier to be quiet once he got to the carpet, and he was able to walk normally to Rose’s room. Once there, he just stood there and watched her sleep for a minute. 

Of course, he was forgetting a crucial piece of the puzzle here - Rose wasn’t in love with him. If she was, things would likely be different. She wouldn’t appreciate his schedule then. She’d want him home, with her. And to be honest, if Rose loved him and resented his schedule, he’d change it. He’d drop the obstetrics and stick with gynecology if he had to - or give up medicine altogether. Anything she wanted. Whatever made her happy, he’d do it.

But it was a moot point. She didn’t love him. He doubted she ever would. 

He took off his clothes as quickly and quietly as possible, pulling on his pyjamas and sliding into bed behind Rose. She reached behind herself, grabbing for him, and his heart swelled when he spooned against her. She trusted him, she welcomed his touch. It gave him hope. 

He laid his arm around her, his hand covering the newly-named Eleanor - his Little Face. The smell of Rose’s hair was addictive, and he fought the urge to kiss her shoulder and confess that he was in love with her. She snored gently and he smiled, loving her completely.

He lowered his lips to her shoulder but stopped himself before they touched, biting back the three words threatening to escape even though he knew she wasn’t awake to hear them. His fingers tightened briefly against her bump. She squirmed a little, muttering something, and he was sure he heard his name in there. It, too, gave him hope. 

Lowering his head to the pillow, he closed his eyes. Rose stirred, then slipped her hand into his, shifting a little closer to him. 

He was running on hope these days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Google docs has apparently changed something, and when I copy and paste, paragraph spaces are no longer preserved. I tried to put them back as best I could once I was in here, but if I got it wrong, I'm sorry. Blame Rishi. 
> 
> ~Caedmon


	47. Chapter 47

10 March 2012

Rose taught at the center every other Saturday until three. He typically hated the shit out of those days because it meant that there was a stretch of several hours where he had to entertain himself (if he wasn’t at the clinic). Today, though, he took advantage of the time to do some browsing and shopping in preparation for Eleanor. He wanted it to be a surprise for Rose, so when she was working felt like the opportune time to shop. 

When his watch suddenly read 2:30, he took off across town to pick her up from the center. There were less than five minutes to spare when he got there. Henry was sitting in his usual spot, reading a book, and Ian smiled as he called a greeting out to the driver. Henry looked up, then got to his feet, offering his hand as he always did. 

“Ah, Dr. Docherty.”

Ian sighed. “What’s it going to take to get you to call me Ian?”

“Couldn’t tell you, sir.”

Henry grinned. Ian sighed. “I hope you will someday.”

“Maybe I will.”

That was the best he could ask for, and he knew it. He wished Rose’s driver a good day and dismissed him, shaking his head a little. 

His bum had barely landed on the bench when children burst out of Rose’s class like a firework, yelling and whooping and waving their latest creations. The art was colorful, and Ian was pleased to see how the children seemed to be enjoying her class. 

She didn’t come out for a while and Ian just waited, making a mental checklist of everything he’d need for the night he had planned, reassuring himself he had it all. If all went well, it would be a lovely night. He prayed all went well. 

“Hey mister?” 

There was a tugging on his sleeve, and he looked over to find a bright-eyed boy of about eight looking at him. “Yes?”

“Is Miss Rose your girlfriend?” He wasn’t sure how to answer the boy, but thankfully he didn’t have to. “Because she’s my girlfriend, too.”

Ian grinned a little. “Let me guess. You must be Mark.” The boy nodded. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Miss Rose. She’s quite fond of you.”  
It was apparently the right thing to say. A flush stained the boy’s cheeks and he smiled brightly. 

“So what can I do for you, Mark?”

“Is it okay if she’s my girlfriend, too?” Ian stammered, but Mark didn’t hesitate. “I just wanted to make sure, ‘cuz m’Nan says you can’t just take something from somebody without asking. She tells me I gotta share, too. So I figured I’d ask if we could share and not just take her away.”

Ian did his best not to chuckle at the obviously sincere boy. “You know, Miss Rose is very, very special. She’s terribly important to me.”

“Me, too,” Mark assured him. “I love her.”

_Me and you both, wean._

Ian pretended to consider for a minute, then smiled. “I tell you what. Are you going to be very, very nice to her?” Mark nodded vigorously. “Are you going to take extra good care of her?” The boy nodded again. “Well then, I guess if you can promise to be very good to her, it’s alright with me.”

The little boy’s eyes lit up. “Thanks, mister!”

Ian’s reply of ‘you’re welcome’ was lost in the din as Mark dashed off to join a group of friends, and he chuckled to himself. Rose was certainly not an item that could or should be shared, and he knew that she’d balk at the conversation he’d just had - had it been between two adults. But he figured that Mark would be granted a bit of leeway and besides, it was all pretend. Both of the ‘relationships’ existed only in the hopeful minds of her suitors. They weren’t real. 

That sobered him and stole his smile for a moment.

It came back when Rose stepped out of her classroom, followed by Petronella Osgood. The two women were chatting pleasantly, smiling and laughing. It made Ian happy to see Rose developing a friendship. Truthfully, Rose made friends wherever she went. Her hands were massaging her lower back and it made his brows knit a little. But that didn’t last long, because she looked up and spotted him. 

“Ian!” she exclaimed and started over towards him, Ms. Osgood in her wake. He got to his feet and beamed when she came straight to him and put her arms around his torso, smiling. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and lowered his head to kiss the top of hers. 

“Hey, sweetheart. Good day?”

“Good but long,” she told him when she released him. She reached for his hand and he fairly glowed. 

“Afternoon, Ms. Osgood.”

“Please, just call me Osgood. All my friends do.”

Ian inclined his head in agreement, but didn’t get to speak. 

“So dinner after work one night next week. Yeah?”

“Absolutely,” Osgood agreed with a smile. “Monday work for you?”

“Monday’s great!”

“You can’t on Monday, sweetheart,” Ian broke in. “We have antenatal class that night.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Rose said, disappointed. “Wednesday?”

“Wednesday’s fine,” Osgood smiled. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me, too!” Rose let go of Ian’s hand and gave her friend an exuberant hug. “It’ll be great! See you Monday?”

“See you Monday. Dr. Docherty, I’ll see you, too.”

He tutted at her. “If I’m to call you Osgood, I’m going to need you to call me Ian.”

“Ian it is. You two have a good weekend.”

“Bye!” Ian helped Rose into her coat (rubbing her tummy while he had the chance) then took her hand and led her from the center to his car. They got in and within thirty seconds, they were pulling away. He debated telling her about Mark, but could see no way to tell her without sounding like he thought he was more than he was, so he didn’t mention it. 

“How’s Eleanor today?”

“Squirmy.”

“Is she hurting you?”

Rose shook her head. “No. My back is sore, but it’s not because of her. Well --” she stopped herself, grinned, then went on. “Not because she’s kicking me.”

He swallowed. “I’ll be more than happy to rub it, if you’d like.”

She turned her head to look at him, then smiled and flushed. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

The two of them were quiet for a little while, Ian just stroking her thumb with his. Then Rose asked, “Where are we going?”

“Well, it’s up to you, of course, but I was thinking we could go to the cottage and pick up what you’d need to spend the night away.”

Rose raised her eyebrows. “Where am I going?”

“Just to mine,” he said as casually as he could with his heart in his throat. “I’d like to cook for you, and that would be easier at mine where I know the kitchen well.”

She snorted. “You mean where there are supplies.”

“Well, yes, basically,” he agreed, and Rose giggled. “And after, we could just spend the night, if you like, then putter around the house tomorrow.”

Rose didn’t hesitate. “That sounds lovely.”

Relief rushed through him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Her tongue curled around her teeth and he loved her more than he could put into words. 

“Well, then, let’s head to the cottage.”

~*~O~*~

Ian and Rose got back to his around half four, a little too early to start dinner, so they settled in on his couch to watch a television show before they got started. Rose kicked off her shoes as soon as she sat down and immediately curled up against him, giving what Ian dared to think was a contented sigh.

After one episode of an American political dramedy they’d been watching together, Ian kissed her head and helped her get up so they could go get started on dinner. Despite the fact it was only twenty feet or so, they held hands to the kitchen and only broke apart when Ian started pulling out ingredients, explaining what he was going to make. The two moved around each other easily, and every time Ian passed her, he laid his hand on her belly fondly. Each time he did, Rose would smile at him, and it felt like the sun coming up.

But very shortly after they got started, Ian noticed that Rose kept rubbing her lower back. After she’d done so for the third or fourth time, Ian called a halt to what they were doing. 

“Sweetheart, you need to sit down.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. Your back is hurting.”

“Really, I’m okay. I don’t want to sit.”

“I’m not going to banish you to the lounge or anything. You can sit here, at the bar, and talk to me.”

She looked reluctant. “Ian…”

“Sit down, sweetheart, and tell me about your day,” he encouraged, walking her around the center island with one hand on the part that hurt her.

“We already talked about my day,” she grumped, climbing into the seat. 

Ian kissed her forehead and rubbed her back for a second. She leaned into the pressure of his hand, closing her eyes and biting her lip. There was nothing he could do but move around behind her, put both hands on her lower back and massage, working to loosen the muscles that were sore. She gave a contented little groan and his cock stirred in his denims. For his sanity’s sake, he stopped kneading her, kissed her hair then rounded the island again to get back to cooking.

“Mum and Pete are after me to quit the center.”

“Oh? How come?”

“They say I should be kinder to myself, that I’m in a ‘delicate condition’ and need to be taking it easy. Mum feels like the most strenuous things I need to be doing are shopping for the baby and going to the spa,” she said, sounding just a bit petulant. 

Ian didn’t disagree, but he wouldn’t dare tell Rose that. “Well, what do you tell them?”

“That loads of women work right up to their due date. There’s no reason why I can’t be like them.”

He did his best to sound nonchalant when he responded. “If your back is already bothering you this much at the end of the day, you may not _want_ to go to your due date.”

Rose peered at him. “Just whose side are you on here?”

He raised both hands in surrender, including the hand that was holding a spatula covered in marinara sauce. “Yours, sweetheart. Always yours. Never doubt it. I just don’t want you to be miserable.”

She huffed, but didn’t say anything. Her chin went into her hand and she watched him while he worked at the stove, cooking. It was comfortable, having her there in his space, and he was reminded of his daydream. God, what he wouldn’t give…

Breaking himself out of that line of thought, he asked, “Speaking of shopping… Have you bought any more stuff for Eleanor?”

Rose sighed. “Not really, not yet. I’ve gotten a few outfits, but that’s it.”

“What are you waiting for?”

“Well, some of it is stuff I wanted to show you,” she explained, and there was a blush high on her cheeks when he whirled around to look at her. She ducked her head and he wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly.

“Me?”

Her voice was just a little timid. “Yeah. I mean, we went to the store that night and you helped me… I left with a much better idea of what I wanted and needed than when I went there.” She seemed to stumble, then recovered. “I mean, I can do it on my own, it’s not a problem, I just… I really value your opinion. I like it when you’re with me on stuff.”

She wasn’t meeting his eye, and he knew he needed to be very cautious with what he said next. The last thing he wanted was for her to get flustered and change her mind. He decided to try for casual - although he felt anything but. 

“Sure, we can go to the baby store tomorrow, as soon as they open if you want. Or I’ll break out my laptop and we’ll go online after dinner. Do some shopping and place an order.”

She smiled, almost shyly. “Yeah?”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

Ian’s heart swelled when she beamed at him. He’d made her happy, and that was all he ever wanted. He gave her a wink and basked in the way she bit her lip when he did. Then he turned back to the stove.

They chatted while he finished making dinner, and Rose insisted on setting the table. Ian expected her to go to the formal dining room. It was what he had intended, hoping to be impressive all the way around, but Rose laid everything out at the kitchen table. When he questioned her about it, she just shrugged and said that she’d rather not feel like she was yelling at him from across a long table. He couldn’t argue with that, not if it meant he got to be closer to her.  
Dinner was delicious, if he did say so himself, and Rose seemed suitably dazzled. It would have been better with a nice merlot, but Ian didn’t want to drink when she couldn’t - not something he knew she’d want. Besides, he wanted to be entirely clearheaded. Not that --

“My dress is black.”

He looked up at her, his fork poised over a bite of chicken, but she wasn’t looking at him. She was moving her salad around in her bowl. 

“I’m sorry?”

“My dress. It’s black. Black lace, actually.”

Ian did his absolute damndest to shove away the mental image of Rose in black lace, only half succeeding. 

“That sounds lovely, but... your dress for what?”

“For the Vitex Gala you haven’t asked me to yet,” she answered with great casualness and a little Mona Lisa smile at her plate. She still didn’t look at him, just took a bite of her salad. 

The Vitex Gala was an annual party that Pete threw. It was black tie, with dinner and dancing, and large enough that he rented out a venue instead of holding it at the mansion. It was generally regarded as one of _the_ society events of the year, covered by the press and all that jazz. It was an opportunity to see and be seen. Ian typically hated it. He put in an appearance every year to support his best friend and do some schmoozing, trying to scare up donations for the clinic, but just like with the awards banquet for the hospital, Ian hated socializing alone. 

But if he was following Rose correctly, he may not _have_ to socialize alone…

“The Vitex Gala?”

Rose nodded. “I just - I thought… You know, since we were both going, we could go together. If you wanted to, that is,” she finished, still not looking at him but blushing heavily. “I mean, I understand if you don’t want to. I’m not exactly looking my best, I wouldn’t blame you if --”

She was daft and he almost laughed at the absurdity of the idea that he wouldn’t want her. A night with Rose Tyler on his arm? Ian picked up the free hand that was lying on the table beside him and kissed it. “I’d love nothing better, sweetheart. Thank you.”

Her face was like the sun when she looked up at him, and he kissed her hand again.

~*~O~*~

Ian adjusted himself slightly against the headboard of his bed, trying to get just a little more comfortable without waking the woman who was sleeping between his legs, her head resting on his chest, snoring lightly.

After dinner, he and Rose had cleaned up quickly, retired to the lounge with his laptop, then shopped for Eleanor. After getting input from him, Rose purchased nursery furniture - including a cot, a changing table, a chest of drawers and a rocking chair to match. She had seemed shaken by the amount of money she’d spent, and he’d taken some time to soothe her and remind her that what she was doing was best for her daughter. Parents provided the best they possibly could. What she was doing was natural. After a while, she settled down and they went on to purchase the bedding set that they’d picked a few weeks earlier, the one with the rosebuds. They also bought curtains, rugs, spare sheets, and wall hangings to match. Rose talked about purchasing some art for her wall, but Ian urged her to consider creating the art for Eleanor’s walls herself. She had flushed and insisted that Ian had too much faith in her, but Ian insisted otherwise. When they’d signed off the computer, Rose had only agreed to brainstorm some things she could paint, and Ian had ideas of his own.

She’d been yawning, so Ian had suggested they go to bed, even though it was only half nine. He held her hand and her bag while they walked up the stairs, his heart thudding excitedly. They’d shared a bed loads of times, but she’d only slept in his home once before, and it had been unplanned. Tonight, she’d walked into his house knowing she wouldn’t walk out until tomorrow, and that felt important.

Ian had put her bag on the bed, then stepped into the loo to change into his pyjamas. When he’d come back, Rose had been standing by the bed, holding a pair of fleece pyjama pants with polka dots, flushing brightly. She’d discovered that she’d forgotten to bring a shirt to sleep in, and was asking to borrow one of Ian’s (again). He was only too happy to pull out one of his favorite t-shirts and give it to her to change into. She’d stepped into the en suite and when she came back, he’d thought his poor heart was going to burst out of his chest with love and longing. The cool colors of the cartoon skeleton on the shirt actually matched her pyjamas, and she’d been adjusting the shirt anxiously. 

“I’m afraid I’m going to stretch it,” she’d said quietly. 

“I don’t give a fuck,” he’d told her completely honestly. “You look…”

He hadn’t finished. She’d bitten her lip and looked up at him from beneath her lashes, and whatever he’d been about to say had flown out of his mind. To recover, he’d offered to get her set up in the bed, arranging pillows around her, helping to support her belly and hopefully ease her back pain. She’d laid down and he’d gotten behind her, rubbing her back, massaging it, driving himself absolutely spare by touching her without being able to _touch_ her. After a while, she’d fallen asleep and Ian had spooned up behind her, his hand covering Eleanor protectively. 

He’d only just fallen asleep when Rose started squirming uncomfortably, alarming him. She’d told him that she had heartburn and he’d propped her on as many pillows as he could easily find, including his, even taking the ones from Fergus’ bed and grabbing antacid while he was up. She’d been quiet for a while but before long, the tomato sauce from dinner was bothering her again and she was sitting up in bed, saying it was the only way she could be comfortable. 

Ian had debated for only a second before he’d started piling pillows behind himself, attempting to soften the headboard. Then he’d guided Rose to sit between his legs, leaning against him, and he’d wrapped his arms around her. She’d laid her head on his chest so that her hair was tickling his neck a little, and had fallen asleep almost at once. 

So here he sat, holding her while she slept in his arms, blissfully happy with the situation he found himself in. She seemed to be making herself comfortable in his home, which thrilled him to no end. He’d like it if she and Eleanor became regular and frequent guests. 

If he was being honest, he’d like it best if she and Eleanor were to move in, to live with him. 

But it wasn’t wise to dwell on that idea. The most he should ever hope for would be Rose and the baby staying at his a couple nights a week - and even that was probably optimistic to the point of foolishness. He needed to be realistic: to remember that every moment she shared with him was a fucking gift, and then to treat it as such. He did his best to do that, to never take her for granted. At any moment, she could meet someone younger, better looking, and more to her taste. Or she could simply decide never to see him again and cut him out of her life - and Eleanor’s. 

The very thought made him shudder, and his arms tightened around her. He’d never survive if she cut him loose without a backwards glance, but he didn’t think she would. She didn’t love him, but she _did_ care about him. It was much less than what he wanted, what he dreamed of, but he’d decided long ago to take whatever scraps she threw his way. She’d thrown much more than he ever dared hope for, and he was grateful. 

As he drifted off to sleep his mind wandered, and he fell asleep smiling, dreaming of a life with Rose.


	48. Chapter 48

13 March 2012  
Week Twenty-Nine

Rose sat up on the exam table, her hands under her thighs with her feet swinging below. Ian sat just to the left of her with his mobile in his hand, reading an email that had just come in. He muttered a short string of swear words and locked his phone, turning his attention to Rose, who smiled. 

“Everything alright?”

He smiled up at her and she melted. “Everything’s fine, sweetheart.” Rose reached for his hand and he took it. “Did you decide what you want for lunch?”  
“I’m not sure --”

She was interrupted by a short knock on the door, which opened to let in Dr. Ross. Rose smiled when she saw her. This doctor had been incredibly kind and had taken amazing care of her. As far as she was concerned, it was just another testament to how wonderful Ian was. She knew that he’d hand-picked his colleague to take care of her, and it just made her love him impossibly more. 

Dr. Ross started out the visit by asking questions about Rose’s diet, how she was feeling. Rose was content to say she felt fine, but Ian volunteered that she’d been having low back pain. She would have shot him a look, but figured he had some reason for telling Dr. Ross. Dr. Ross made a note of what Ian said, but didn’t comment more about it.

She listened to Eleanor’s heartbeat with the doppler and palpated Rose’s uterus, prompting a series of kicks from Eleanor that made Ian beam. Once she was done she offered to help Rose sit up and Ian shot to his feet, taking her other hand and putting his free hand on her back to support it. Rose didn’t let go of Ian’s hand once she was sitting up, just looked up at him standing beside her and smiled happily, loving him desperately.

“Well, Rose,” Dr. Ross interrupted her mooning, “everything looks good. Baby is active, her heartbeat is strong and right on target, her growth is right on track… honestly, you really couldn’t ask for a healthier pregnancy.”

Rose squeezed Ian’s hand and beamed up at him. He looked as happy as she did and squeezed her hand in return. 

“Have you been drinking coffee or soda?”

“Well, my… dad owns Vitex, so…”

“I think you should cut out caffeine as completely as you can at this point. Everything’s fine, it’s just a precaution, but I’d like you to give it up for now.”

_Damn._ Rose had been sneaking a cup of coffee when Ian wasn’t there in the mornings - it was the _only_ good thing about him not being there in the mornings - but this meant that she’d have to stop that. 

“Alright. I will.”

Dr. Ross smiled kindly. “It’s only for a couple of months, and then you can have your lattes back. I don’t think anything terrible will happen if you have a cup of coffee or a soda, so don’t beat yourself up if you slip, I’m just asking this out of an abundance of caution.”

“I understand.” And she did. But that didn’t mean she had to like it. 

Ian squeezed her hand again, then brought it up to kiss it. “It’ll be alright, sweetheart.”

She didn’t miss the look that Dr. Ross shot her and Ian, but her doctor looked back to Rose before anything was said. "This is usually the point in the pregnancy where I counsel my patients about sex. Docherty already knows all of this, of course. I'm not going to put you on pelvic rest, you’re still cleared to engage in intercourse, but I do advise against any… sexual acrobatics or any position that makes you uncomfortable.”

Rose felt herself flush redder than she could ever remember and her hand went clammy in his. She could have died of mortification and was terrified to look up at Ian, whose hand was like iron around hers. The silence in the room was oppressive, and she knew that she was going to have to speak before they could move past the moment. 

“Yeah, okay. Sure.”

Dr. Ross gave her a couple of parting words while Rose’s face returned to its normal color (she hoped), and then left. Ian cleared his throat, and when Rose looked up at him, his ears were red. 

“You ready to eat, sweetheart?”

She plastered on the best smile she could to try and move past what had just happened. “Absolutely.”

~*~O~*~

Nurses were practically diving out of Ian’s way as he stomped towards Christine’s office. He’d gone to lunch with Rose and the two of them had deftly avoided the topic of ‘sexual acrobatics’, but his sweetheart didn’t meet his eye for more than half the meal and Ian was fucking _livid_. When he’d come back from lunch, he’d refused to go speak to Christine just yet, afraid of just how angry he was.

But now it was the end of the day and he was at the end of his patience. He was as calm as he was going to get for a good while, he thought, and now was as good a time as any. He shoved open Christine’s nearly-closed door when he got there. 

“What the fuck were you thinking?” he demanded. 

She looked up from her laptop, over her glasses. “Good to see you, too, Docherty.”

"What the fuck would you say all of that for?"

“About what?”

“ _Sexual fucking acrobatics_?”

"It's a standard warning we all give sexually active patients, Docherty."

"That was a pointed comment and you fucking know it," he snarled.

Christine shrugged. "Still. You need to be careful."

"She’s not -- we're not sleeping together and you fucking embarrassed Rose."

She took her glasses off and looked at him incredulously. "You're still clinging to the 'it's not mine' line? Unbelievable. Are you still going to be saying that when your daughter graduates from uni?"

“Fuck you.”

Ian spun on his heel and left, going to his office to get his coat and leave so he could do the one and only thing he knew would calm him down - go to see Rose.

~*~O~*~

14 March 2012

~Rose: _will you come pick me up when you get off?_  
~Ian: _I’ll be happy to, sweetheart. I thought you were going out with Osgood?_  
~Rose: _I don’t feel well. want to go home._  
~Ian: _how do you feel bad?_  
~Rose: _run down, like I’ve got a cold_  
~Ian: _have Henry take you now and I’ll meet you there. leaving now_  
~Rose: _I don’t want Henry, I want you._  
~Rose: _and no, you still have work_  
~Ian: _I’m on my way, sweetheart_  
~Rose: _don’t leave work early on my account_  
~Ian: _too late. twenty minutes_

Ian shoved his mobile in his trouser pocket and pulled off his lab coat hurriedly, bellowing for Clara. There weren’t any more patients to be seen in the last hour of the day, he needed to go make rounds. But if Rose was sick…

Clara poked her head in the door. “Yeah, Doctor?”

“Rose is sick,” he bit out, looking to make sure he wasn’t leaving behind anything he needed. “I have to go.”

“Is she alright?”

_God, I hope so._ The alternative - he couldn’t even entertain the thought.

“I think so. I’m on my way to pick her up. Is Christine in her office?” 

Clara nodded. “Yeah. Are you on the way to talk to her?”

“Yeah, as I leave.” He shrugged into his coat hurriedly, then rounded the desk towards the door. Clara stepped into the corridor and Ian followed her, shutting and locking his office door.

“Hey, Doctor?” Ian looked up at her quickly. “Let me know if she’s okay, and tell her we’re thinking about her.”

“Thanks. Call down to Christine’s office for me.”

He hustled down the corridor towards Christine’s office near the exit to the car park, doing his best to calm his rampaging brain. When he arrived, he spotted her sitting at her desk, hanging up the phone. He rapped on the open door to get her attention. 

“That was fast. Must be serious,” she commented, droll. 

Ian didn’t mince words. “Rose is sick. I’m on my way to her now.”

Christine went on alert instantly with those words, and he was glad to see it. “Sick how?”

“I don’t know entirely. All she said is that she feels run down, like she’s got a cold.”

“You need to alert Torchwood,” Christine told him in a lower voice, so no one would overhear.

Ian bristled. “I don’t have to do a goddamn thing!”

Ross shot to her feet and circled the desk, pulling Ian inside and shutting the door. “You have to alert Torchwood, Ian.”

“According to you, this baby is entirely human and mine, to boot,” he snarled. “Why should I involve fucking Torchwood?” 

“Because it’s what we agreed to do. This could be something that’s out of my realm of capability. And yours.”

“You don’t know what those fuckers tried to do last time --”

“They tried to do an amnio on her without prior consent or notification,” Christine said calmly. Ian stared at her blankly, and she gave him a stern look. “Did you honestly think I wouldn’t be kept in the loop?”

He started to stammer and she held up a hand. “Staples is out. The new doctor seems much more competent and is very nice to work with. I suspect her bedside manner is going to be much better.”

“Her?”

“Diana Evans. I rather like her and suspect that, if you give her a chance, you will, too.”

Ian shook his head to clear it. He didn’t have time to think about this. “I don’t care if she’s Mother fucking Teresa. If I need something tonight, I’m going to be texting or ringing you.”

“Keep me updated regardless of whether you need anything or not.”

“Will do, thanks.” Ian opened the door and went to leave, but Ross’ words stopped him.

“And I’ll cover your rounds and call tonight.”

“Shit,” he swore. He’d meant to ask her about rounds and had forgotten all about call tonight. 

“I really appreciate it, Christine,” he said sincerely. “I owe you one.”

“You owe me lots. Go. Get Rose.”

Ian didn’t hesitate.

~*~O~*~

He was much less gentle than usual when he yanked open the door to the center and rushed inside, looking this way and that for Rose. Henry got to his feet and pointed towards Rose’s classroom. “She just dismissed them a few minutes ago, forty-five minutes early. I tried to take her home but she insisted on waiting for you.

Ian gave the driver a curt nod, completely forgetting to dismiss him, then went back to Rose’s classroom with quick strides. He found her sitting on a chair in the corner of the room, leaning against the wall with her eyes closed. She had her coat wrapped around her to keep warm and there was a crumpled tissue in her hand. She was paler than usual, save for her red nose and spots of color high on her cheeks. Ian suspected she had a temperature, and cursed under his breath. The sound was covered by Rose coughing. 

In a heartbeat he was kneeling in front of her, his hand on her cheek - both for comfort and to check for fever.

“Sweetheart? Are you alright?”

Her eyes were weak when she opened them. “You’re not supposed to be here yet. You still have work.”

“Fuck work. You’re more important.” That got a disbelieving little smile out of her, but he was deadly serious. He ran his thumb along her cheekbone. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you walk?”

She laughed a little, but it turned into a coughing spell. Ian panicked until she was breathing easily again. “Yeah. I can walk. It’s just a cold, don’t make a fuss.”

“Tough shit,” he told her, clambering to his feet. “A fuss shall be made.” He took both her hands - dirty tissue and all, he didn’t give a fuck - and pulled her upright. “Let’s get you home, sweetheart.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, and leaned against him all the way to his car.

~*~O~*~

Ian would have much preferred to take her to his house, but didn’t dare ask Rose to go there right now. She needed to be in a place she was most comfortable, and for the time being, that was the cottage. Eventually, though, he hoped she would reach that level of comfort at his.

But the fucking geography wasn’t important right now. What mattered was getting Rose to feeling better.

Ian called in some soup at a delicatessen that delivered on his way to the cottage. When they arrived, Rose waddled down the hall to put on something more comfortable. He was surprised when she came back with pyjama pants, a long-sleeve t-shirt, and fuzzy socks on. She never wore pyjamas outside of the bedroom for any length of time, and it was only a little before five. She resisted his attempts to get her to eat the broth he’d ordered, but finally acquiesced and ate a little - just enough to satisfy him. 

As soon Jackie found out that Rose was sick - which was almost as soon as they got home, when she rang to find out why Rose was home early - she was out at the cottage, trying to help. She was also harping about the community center and Rose’s continued presence there, complaining about ‘all those germs’ and how they could harm Rose or Eleanor. 

While Ian appreciated what she was trying to do, her presence was clearly agitating Rose, and Rose’s comfort was paramount right now. Thus, Ian didn’t hesitate to tell Jackie, with as much kindness and empathy as he could muster, to get the fuck out and let Rose rest. She huffed but gave him a knowing look, then kissed Rose and left without another word. Rose looked at him with a mildly disapproving expression, but it dissolved when she had another coughing fit. She didn’t complain when he went to sit on the couch and pulled her over to him, as close as he could get her, wrapping the pink blanket around her. 

Her temperature was 38.2 - not astronomical, but still worrying. Eventually he may have to call Jackie back so she could help Rose get a cool bath to bring her temperature down. But for now, he was just going to wait and see. 

And worry. Definitely fucking worry. 

“How’s Eleanor?” 

“Quiet. Is it possible she feels sick also?”

“Yes and no. She doesn’t have a cold, but she almost certainly senses that Mummy doesn’t feel well.” He put his hand on her belly to check for fetal movement, but also just needing the comfort of contact. Eleanor squirmed just a little and Ian was relieved. 

Rose was quiet for a minute, except for a rattly wheeze, and Ian wished he’d thought to bring his stethoscope. “As long as I’m still and quiet, I feel alright,” she said, then immediately launched into a spasm of coughs. 

“You’re sick, sweetheart, and you’re not going to do anything you don’t have to do until you’re better. I’m here to make sure of it.”

She lay her hand on his chest and nuzzled her cheek against him. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

Ian kissed the top of her hair. “It’s my pleasure. Now, drink some more of your water. We need to get that fever down.”

Rose did as asked while Ian pulled something up for them to watch together. He pressed play when she snuggled back up against him, and he kissed her head again, just because. 

They were quiet together on the couch, watching their show with minimal coughing from Rose, when Ian’s mobile rang. It was a number he didn’t know and he was tempted to send the call to voicemail, but he picked it up.

“Hello?”

“Dr. Docherty?”

“Speaking. And this is?”

“My name is Dr. Diana Evans, with Torchwood.”

Ian stiffened and Rose sat up, coughing a little from the movement. “What is it?” she whispered. He mouthed ‘Torchwood’ in answer. “How did you get this number?”

“It was in Miss Tyler’s file. It’s noted that you’re the person closest to her and a frequent companion. Are you with her now?”

Ian was gratified to hear how he was listed in her Torchwood file, but he still had tons of questions - and was determined to ignore the other doctor’s questions until he got answers. “Why are you calling?”

“It’s my understanding that Miss Tyler is sick.”

“Your understanding from whom?”

“Christine Ross. She was under the impression that you would be reluctant to contact me.”

“Goddamn right I am. I want you arseholes to have no more to do with Rose or Eleanor than you absolutely have to.”

“Please, Dr. Docherty. You have every right to have a bad taste in your mouth after what happened a few weeks ago. That was absurd, and although I wasn’t there, I apologize for it. I can assure you that nothing like that will happen while I’m leading this case. You and Miss Tyler will be treated with the utmost respect. You have my word.”

There was something soothing about her tone, and Ian wanted to believe her. Christine seemed to trust her, maybe he should, too. Besides, Rose looked worried, and that wasn’t good for her at the best of times. Certainly not when she was already sick. He leaned over to kiss her forehead, then urged her to lean back into him, whispering ‘it’s okay, sweetheart’.

“So what do you want?” he asked when Rose was settled, with less aggression than he’d had just minute before. 

“I simply want to check on Miss Tyler --”

“Rose. She prefers to be called Rose.”

“Rose, yes, and offer my help if you feel you need it.”

“We appreciate that.”

“How is she?”

Ian looked down at her. “I believe it’s just an upper respiratory infection. She has a runny nose and junky cough as well as a fever.”

“What’s her temp?”

“38.2.”

Dr. Evans hummed a little on the other side of the line. “Any other symptoms?”

“Fatigue and body aches. Everything is completely typical of a URI.”

“Do you know what the fetal movement is like?”

“Eleanor’s fine. I’ve got my hand over the baby now.” He traced his fingers on Rose’s belly absently. “She’s moving well.”

“Good, good.”

Ian had a thought and narrowed his eyes. “How much experience do you have in obstetrics, Dr. Evans?”

“Please, call me Diana.”

“How much experience do you have in obstetrics?”

“None, as a specialty. I was a general practitioner for seven years before I pursued xenobiology, so I have a fair grasp of gestational issues.”

It was more than he’d expected, honestly, although not nearly enough to make him entirely comfortable. He was distracted from his thoughts when Rose started pushing away from him, sliding further down the couch. Then she laid down, putting her head in his lap, and he melted. 

“And you’re Dr. Ian Docherty, OB/GYN. Your reputation precedes you.”

Last time someone from Torchwood had said that, things had gone all to shit. He raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“Oh, yes. In med school, I had a classmate who had volunteered at your clinic. She said wonderful things about you - and with good cause. What you did, at your age, was unheard of. Frankly, I’m not sure how you did it.”

Ian snorted. “I didn’t sleep much. She didn’t mention what an arsehole I am?”

“She might have mentioned something about that, too.”

He laughed a little, couldn’t help it. “I need to go. Rose isn’t feeling well, my attention should be on her.”

“Of course, Dr. Docherty. Or may I call you Ian?” He hesitated for a moment and she said, “I’ve a feeling that you and I are going to need to get along, for the sake of a healthy pregnancy for Rose. And, of course, I’ll still be involved when the baby gets here. Eleanor, did you say?”

“Yes. The baby’s name is Eleanor.”

“That’s a lovely name.” Ian opened his mouth, but she cut him off. “I’m not the enemy here. I want there to be a healthy baby as much as you do.”

He was almost insulted by that - other than Rose, he was certain that _no one_ wanted there to be a healthy baby as much as he did. But he chewed over what she’d said for a minute before he nodded to himself. She was right, and he’d get along with the devil himself if it meant Rose stayed healthy. 

“Ian is fine.”

“Excellent!” Diana said. “I’ll let you go tend to our patient. Please don’t hesitate to call me if anything arises.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that, have a good night.”

He hung up without waiting for any reply and sat the mobile on the arm of the couch, using his now free hand to stroke Rose’s head gently. “Are you alright, sweetheart?” he asked softly. 

“Yeah. Just feel awful.”

“I know you do.” And he felt absolutely wretched that he couldn’t give her anything. “I’m here though, and I’ll be here until you’re feeling better. Alright?”

“What about work?”

“Fuck work. I told you, you’re more important.”

“Ian --”

“Shh… Rest, sweetheart. Just rest. Let me take care of you.”

He stroked her hair until she started to snore quietly, then he turned down the volume on the telly and stared at it blankly. He answered his mobile when he got messages, responding to the people who were checking up Rose, and spent the rest of the time worrying about the woman and baby lying in his lap.


	49. Chapter 49

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning - there is a non-explicit mention of past domestic violence in this chapter.

15 March 2012

Rose woke up slowly. Her first thought - after ‘where’s Ian?’ - was to wonder what was wrong with her. She felt achy and cold… was she sick? She rolled over to search for Ian, starting to cough raggedly and found him folding a page in his book hurriedly to mark his place then putting it down. 

“Hey, hey, sweetheart,” he soothed, scooting down so he was laying beside her. He pushed her hair back from her face and kissed her forehead, lingering a second. “Your temperature’s down a bit.”

“I feel a bit better,” she croaked, then groaned. “Although still only slightly better than shit.” Ian chuckled a bit and Rose grabbed for the hand that he wasn’t using to prop himself up, lacing their fingers and snuggling it close. “What time is it?”

“Nine forty-five.”

She looked up at him with wide eyes. “Ian! You’re supposed to be at work!”

He shushed her, pulling their joined hands over to him to kiss her fingers. “It’s fine. I talked to Clara last night and told her I was taking a personal day today. She says hello, by the way, and she and Bill hope you feel better.”

“But Ian,” Rose insisted. “Won’t you get in trouble?”

He smiled indulgently. “No, sweetheart. I won’t get in trouble. I’m a partner, I have seniority, and there’s nothing they can do. But even if there was, I told you yesterday - fuck work. They can all go to hell. All of them.” He kissed her fingers again. “You and Eleanor are so, so much more important to me than work. More important than _anything_.” Her eyes clouded with tears and her lip wobbled. Ian grinned at her, then leaned forward to kiss her forehead. “Never doubt that, Rose. Promise me.”

“I promise,” she whispered, and she believed him. But that meant…

She needed to think for a few minutes, and it was impossible to think when he was looking at her with his eyes all soft like that. Just a few minutes, that was all she needed. But how…?

“I need a shower,” she announced, proud of her solution. “I think I’d feel better if I had a shower.”

There was something in his tone she didn’t quite understand, something guarded when he asked, “Do you feel like you can do it on your own?”

_No, I need you to help me._

“Because if you don’t,” he continued, unaware of her wayward thoughts, “I’ll ring your mum to come out and help you.”

Rose shook her head at once. “No, I think I can do it by myself. I’ve got to use the loo, then I’ll shower.” She started to sit up and Ian was there in an instant, helping her to sit and then stand. Once on her feet she noted that she was more wobbly than she’d like, but she absolutely didn’t want her mum here. Not right now. 

As if he was reading her mind, Ian said, “Are you sure you don’t want your mum?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I’ll be fine, you’ll see.” Carefully, she started towards the loo to relieve her bladder, intending to come back to gather fresh clothes for after her shower. Ian didn’t follow her, but he was close by, and she smiled at him when she closed the door. When she came out a few minutes later, he was sitting at the foot of the bed, looking anxious. “I’m feeling stronger already,” she assured him. 

“A shower can take it out of you,” he said while she went to the bureau and pulled out knickers and clean clothes. “You’re likely going to be tired when you finish.”

“Then I’ll rest on the couch.” She gave him her best sunny smile, trying not to think about how she surely looked like death warmed over and any sane man would run like hell. 

But Ian didn’t. He stepped forward, cupped her jaw with one hand and put his other hand on her belly, then kissed her forehead again. “Be careful in there, alright, sweetheart? I’m going to sit right here in case you need me. Just holler and I’ll be there in a blink.”

“Okay,” she fairly whispered, then - with great reluctance - turned away to go into the bathroom and shower. Once she was under the spray, she let her mind wander while her hands cleaned her hair and body. 

Ian loved her. She’d known that for a while - really, she’d have to be blind not to see it. And she loved him. Oh, how she loved him. She’d truly believed that she could never love anyone else ever again after she landed here and was separated from the Doctor. And if someone had told her when she met Ian at the vow renewal that she would fall madly in love with him, she’d have called them barking. But she _had_ fallen for him, arse over teakettle. All she wanted out of her life was for her, Ian, and Eleanor to be a little family. Mummy, Daddy, Baby, all together. 

She’d been holding herself back because while she knew he loved the baby, she wasn’t quite sure that it was the kind of love she wanted for her daughter. After all, different people gave different kinds of love. Even Mickey loved Eleanor, in his way. But Rose wanted a _father_ for her little girl, someone to be Daddy. She’d suspected that Ian may be the man to love Eleanor that way, she’d _hoped_ he would be, but now she felt as certain as was possible without discussing the topic out loud. She believed that Ian loved Eleanor the way a _father_ would. It was exactly what she wanted. 

So what was stopping her? Why didn’t she march out into the bedroom and declare herself to him right now? Because she was scared. She was afraid of what all this meant and the changes that would come with this revelation. She was terrified of losing Ian - for one thing, he was a highly respected doctor and member of society. She was a girl from the estates with no education. He was also twenty-one years older than her - it would make absolute sense for him to decide she was too immature or clingy or too far below him socially and drop her. He could decide that he didn’t want to be a father after all and leave after Eleanor was born. Or he could simply decide that he’d liked bachelor life better and go back to that. 

Realistically, in her head, Rose didn’t think that any of those things would happen. But it didn’t stop her from being afraid that they would, and that fear was stopping her from moving ahead. 

She could get past those fears, she thought. What she couldn’t get past was the fact that the last time she’d told someone she loved them, he’d said her name then disappeared forever. Once again, she knew in her head that Ian wasn’t going to vaporize when she told him she loved him. But fear wasn’t rational, and Rose was afraid to say those three words - no matter how strongly she felt them. 

The water was suddenly cold, and Rose was snapped back to reality. She rinsed off the remainder of the soap while Eleanor squirmed, then shut off the water. She had been right, a shower had made her feel better. But Ian had been right, too, and she was tired. Taking it as easy on herself as she could, she towel-dried her body and her hair, then pulled on the denims and shirt she’d brought into the bathroom with her. She’d forgotten socks, but it was probably better if she put them on while sitting down, anyway. 

She couldn’t help but grin when she opened the door to find Ian perched on the end of the freshly made bed. He’d made it up while she was bathing, folding the extra blanket neatly. He’d also changed into denims and a t-shirt - her favorite of his t-shirts, actually, the soft, nearly threadbare one with the Bastards from Hell logo on it. His feet were bare and crossed at the ankles and his arms were crossed over his chest. As soon as she opened the door, however, she saw him spring to his feet, ready to do whatever she needed. 

God, she absolutely _adored_ this man. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, sounding more anxious than he probably intended to.

“I’m fine,” she smiled. “But you were right. I am more tired than I thought I’d be.”

She’d expected him to look pleased to hear he’d been right, but instead he just looked worried. “Let’s get you fed, then you can lie on the couch for a while. We’ll watch telly.”

Rose nodded, smiling a little. “Just let me get on some socks.” She pulled out a pair of fuzzy socks and sat on the edge of the bed to put them on. When she struggled a little and had a coughing spell, Ian took over, kneeling in front of her and sliding the socks on her swollen feet. 

“Thank you,” she fairly whispered. 

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. C’mon,” he encouraged her, taking both of her hands in his. “Let’s go dig up something for you to eat, then browse the telly. Yeah?”

She smiled. “Sounds good.”

~*~O~*~

Much like the night before, Ian and Rose were on the couch. She was snuggled up in her pink blanket with her head in his lap while he rubbed it idly with one hand. With the other hand, he used the remote to flip through channels and bitched about daytime telly. He could feel Rose’s cheek tense into a smile and hear her give a weak giggle every now and then when he’d get particularly… _creative_ , so he laid it on thicker for her.

Her temperature had gone up after she’d taken a shower then sat down at the table with him to eat breakfast, and she’d felt worse. But once he coaxed her into resting on the couch (the position had been her idea), the fever had come down. It was getting close to time for lunch, and he was worried that moving around may cause her fever to go back up. He seriously considered not pushing her to eat.

He was lost in his own thoughts when Rose started to sit up, coughing. She pushed aside the blanket and coughed pitifully while Ian watched, helpless, unable to do anything but rub her back. Finally the coughing slowed and she took a couple of deep breaths and turned to smile at him before she got to her feet. 

“Sweetheart?”

“Loo,” she answered his unasked question, and he settled back, unable to do anything for her while she tended her business. Instead, he continued to flip around the hundreds of channels that Pete’s fancy communications department was able to get for him, lamenting that there was nothing decent on and seriously considering switching to Netflix. 

Rose shuffled back in and, instead of lying down, she nuzzled into his side the way she usually did. He kissed her forehead and noted that her temperature still seemed to be down. His relief was palpable. 

While she was settling in, adjusting the blanket and whatnot, Ian’s mobile went off. Thinking it was likely Clara or perhaps Christine, he grabbed it and held it in front of him. 

~Fergus: _how's your bird?_  
~Ian: _fuck off_

Rose sounded a bit confused. "You have a bird? I didn’t see one at your house."

Ian was mortified, but couldn’t let on. Doing his best to remain calm, he said, "No, my cousin is just an idiot." Then typed up another message to Fergus.

~Ian: _I hate you._  
~Fergus: _no you don’t_  
~Ian: _what do you want?_  
~Fergus: _you’ll be here for mam’s birthday, right?_  
~Ian: _have I ever missed it?_  
~Fergus: _let me know when your flight lands and I’ll pick you up_  
~Ian: _appreciate it_  
~Fergus: _it’s the least I can do_  
~Fergus: _say hi to your bird for me_  
~Ian: _eat shit_

He sat the mobile back on the side table and turned back to the telly, flipping channels and studiously not looking at Rose to see if she’d seen that last exchange. “I think I’m going to switch it to Netflix,” he told her. “There’s nothing fucking worth watch-”

She stiffened suddenly. “Go back! I saw something!” He did as she asked, and stopped where she told him. There was a young man on the screen, not much older than Rose, blond and balding, wearing a suit and escorting a beautiful woman who looked vaguely familiar to Ian down the street, waving off photographers politely. Rose bounced a little. 

“That’s Prince William!”

“What?”

“Prince William! He’s second in line to the throne!”

“Sweetheart, there’s no throne here.”

“But there is where _I_ come from! And he’s the prince! Oh, I had the biggest crush on him when I was a teenager.”

Ian gave the man another look, disbelieving. “You did?”

Rose nodded. “I did. But as he got older, his brother, Prince Harry, turned out to be the better-looking one. I wonder if Prince Harry exists here, too…?”  
She grabbed the remote and turned the volume up a bit so that they could hear. The chat show host was talking about how the young man, who was apparently the ambassador to the American Territories, had been coming back to London more frequently and was often spotted with a certain socialite, leading the press to believe there was a romance blooming. The gossipy nature of it gave Ian a hinky feeling and he was sure that they were about to regret landing on this channel, but Rose seemed enthralled. He wouldn’t dare interrupt her happiness. 

As if he’d willed it into being, however, the image of the young man Rose was so excited about faded and was replaced by footage of another couple - himself and Rose. Ian barely bit back a groan. 

“And in other romance news, it’s back to BumpWatch 2012! Although nothing has been confirmed to the media, it’s plain to see that Rose Tyler, Vitex Heiress, is pregnant. And congratulations to her! But some big questions remain… When is the baby due? Is it a boy or a girl? And perhaps the biggest question of all… who is the baby’s father?”

“Well,” cut in the other host, “the rumors have been all over the place about when she’s due, ranging from the beginning of next month to the end of June! But it seems to be fact that she’s having a boy.” 

Ian and Rose both snorted at that, then he prayed helplessly that they wouldn’t speculate about Eleanor’s paternity. His prayers went unheard. 

“The baby’s paternity also seems to be fact. Rose and Dr. Ian Docherty are clearly a couple… look at the two of them when they’re together! Heart eyes everywhere! There was some talk late last fall and around the holidays of some other people it might be, but it’s _obvious_ that she and Dr. Docherty are the happy parents-to-be! Of course, we’ll be keeping an eye on…”

Rose muted the telly and Ian didn’t say anything, didn’t move. He wasn’t sure in that moment whether his heart was beating, he was so anxious. What was she going to do? Would she tell him to leave, to never come back? Would she laugh it off? How did one react to seeing something like that? Ian simply wanted it to be true. What would Rose think?

She finally broke the tense silence. “Oh, Shareen and Keisha would just _die_ if they knew I’d been on the news right after Prince William. And Tricia stupid Delaney could eat her heart out.”

That was not at all what he’d expected her to say, and he was thrown a bit off. Then, in another sudden twist, she said, “Tell me a story.”

“A story?”

Rose relaxed, snuggling into him again and coughing briefly. “Yeah, a story. Tell me some wild tale about you and Fergus at uni. Something funny.”

“Something funny…” he pondered, scrambling to come up with a story that would be suitable to tell her. Finally, he landed on something he thought might work. “When we were in uni, Fergus was kicked out of nearly every movie house in town.”

“How’d he manage that?” Rose asked, and he could already hear the grin in his voice. 

“Well, Fergus is a bit of a ladies’ man. He’s just a natural flirt. I honestly don’t think he can fucking help it, most of the time. And - if you ever tell him I said this, I’ll deny it to my last fucking breath,” he warned her.

“I won’t.”

Ian sighed. “Fergus is also really good-looking. Fit. Girls always flocked around him, so he never had to try all that hard.”

“I know the type.”

“Well, one of his favorite things to do was to take girls to a scary movie. When they’d panic, he’d comfort them, see? And it always turned into a makeout session in the middle of the theater. They’d get caught and asked to leave. I bet that happened twenty-five times if it happened once.”

Rose giggled. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Did you try that little trick, too?”

 _Fuck_. He had really, really hoped she wouldn’t ask him that.

“I… might have done.”

Rose sat up, twisting so that she could see him, and was smirking evilly. “So you were a ladies’ man, too, huh?”

“I fucking wasn’t!” She giggled and he reiterated. “Honestly. I wasn’t.”

“How many times did _you_ get thrown out of theaters, then?”

Goddammit, she was asking everything he’d hoped she’d leave alone. Leave it to Rose…

“Five,” he mumbled. 

“Five!” she hooted, laughing, then started to cough. Ian was upright in an instant, watching her face, rubbing her back, doing anything he could to soothe her. When her coughs slowed down, she went back to giggling, so she was giggling and coughing simultaneously. “I had no idea I’d taken up with such a lothario,” she teased when she got her breath. 

“I’m not a fucking lothario!” he protested. 

“Getting thrown out of theaters and whatnot… gosh, Ian. You’re lucky I never got to hear your reputation as a man-whore.”

“I’m not -!” But Rose was giggling again, harder this time, and went into another coughing spell. He did what he could for her until she was done, then she settled back into his side. 

“Don’t worry, Ian. I got thrown out of a theater once, too.”

Jealousy coursed through him and he considered changing the subject. 

“It wasn’t for making out, though.”

His curiosity was piqued now, although he sensed he wouldn’t like the answer he was about to get. “What was it for?”

“Fighting.”

“Who were you fighting?”

“My boyfriend. I was seeing this bloke named Jimmy. He was older than me by a couple of years and was bloody _gorgeous_. All my friends had crushes on him, but he picked me.” Rose snuggled closer and put her arm across Ian’s torso, holding him. “He talked me into moving out of Mum’s and into his shabby bedsit. Then he convinced me to drop out of school and get a job so I could pay bills while he hung around the pub.”

Ian felt anger bubbling. “He’s why you never got your A-levels.”

“Right. It was my own stupid fault, but I did it for him.”

He took a couple of deep breaths. “Is that what you were fighting over?”

“No, we were fighting because I’d seen him flirting with some girl.” Rose scoffed. “I should have let him go. Would have saved me a lot of heartache - and a bloody hospital bill.”

“Hospital bill?!”

“He hit me,” Rose said simply, as if it were just a fact and not a revelation. “He’d been drinking and I didn’t come home from my waitressing shift as quickly as he thought I should have, so he smacked me around. Gave me a black eye and broke my wrist.”

“ _He fucking what?!_ ”

Rose shushed him, looking up at him and rubbing a large circle on his chest. “It’s okay, Ian. It was a long time ago and a universe away. It’s over now.”

“I’m going to kill him. I’m going to fucking find him here in this universe and fucking kill him.”

“You can’t. He’s dead. He was cyberized.”

Ian stewed, stymied by his inability to avenge Rose. “That fucker deserved worse.”

“Worse than being cyberized?”

His voice was barely more than a growl. “There’s nothing horrible enough for some bastard who put his hands on you.”

“He’s gone. It’s over. And look at me, Ian.” 

He did, and Christ, she was achingly beautiful. How could anyone hit that sweet face?

“I’m fine. I survived, I lived to tell, and it helped make me who I am. Yeah?”

Ian brought his hand up to cup her cheek. “No one will ever fucking hit you again, Rose. As long as I draw breath in my body, no one will ever put their hands on you in a way you don’t like. Do you understand, sweetheart? I will do everything in my power to keep you safe for as long as I live.”

She smiled softly at him. “I know you will. I trust you.”

He kissed her forehead and she settled back into his side. Feeling Eleanor move when he laid his hand on her bump soothed him, knowing that she was safe and protected. He’d fight, kill, or die to keep the two of them that way. Whatever it took.


	50. Chapter 50

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Don't forget to sign up for our baby pool!](https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1MIvD_cU2mR2aRB8il-aE_NUhCirrKcPwvVF5I46C32A/edit#gid=152495795) The winner gets a one-shot/epilogue! Pool open for ten more days!

16 March 2012

Rose’s fever had broken the night before around dinnertime, and she had made it clear to Ian that he was absolutely _not_ to miss work the next day because of her. She was well now, she said, and he needed to be at work. Besides, she had a class to teach Friday afternoon. 

He’d argued with her about it up until bedtime, both of them silently, mutually agreeing that once they got into bed, they’d curl up with each other and call a temporary truce. When the alarm went off the next morning, they’d disentangled from each other, gotten up to start the day and resumed arguing. 

Ultimately, it was a draw. He’d agreed (with great reluctance) to go back to work, but she’d had to agree to cancel her class that afternoon. He also stipulated that he wanted her to spend the day with her mother at the mansion. When Rose had protested, he’d pointed out that one of the maids needed to come in and clean and get rid of all the germs, and Rose needed to be out of the house for that. She’d finally agreed, but not before many rolled eyes and sticking her tongue out at him a couple of times - which was just fucking adorable. 

So Ian was at work today, seeing patients and trying not to worry. Everything was fine, he knew. Rose had been feeling steadily better since early yesterday, she was almost certainly perfectly fine. And if she wasn’t, Jackie knew to call him or Christine. It was fine. 

Still, he wasn’t able to stop himself texting her throughout the day, although it was only a random message here or there until things slowed down and he was able to take a break and sit at his desk for a while around three. 

~Ian: _how are you and the little lady?_  
~Rose: _fat and sassy. I'm fat, she's sassy._  
~Ian: _you are not fat_  
~Rose: _are you calling me sassy?_  
~Ian: _so it's gonna be this kind of evening, huh?_  
~Rose: _you love it. admit it._  
~Ian: _I admit nothing_  
~Rose: _lol! are you coming back tonight?_  
~Ian: _I had planned on it. that okay?_  
~Rose: _of course it is, you daft thing_  
~Rose: _you’re always welcome here with me_  
~Ian: _am I picking up dinner?_  
~Rose: _I can cook_  
~Ian: _no you can’t. text me what you want by 5 if you can_  
~Rose: _yes sir! *salute*_

Ian chuckled to himself. She was in a silly mood, and he was grateful for it. If she still felt bad, she wouldn’t be so playful. From anyone else the silliness might have grated, but not from Rose. He enjoyed it from her. 

Clara’s head popped around the corner. “Rose is feeling better, I see.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You’re smiling. If she was still sick you’d be climbing the walls, trying to get to her.”

He couldn’t argue that, not without telling a bald-faced lie. So he ignored it. “What do you want, Clara?”

“Nothing, really. I genuinely came in here to check on Rose.”

“She’s better,” he admitted. “Not well, but much better.”

“Good. Bill and I were worried about her.”

“No need to worry. I’m perfectly fucking capable of taking care of a pregnant woman, you know. It’s kind of what I do.”

Clara smirked. “Yeah, but Rose is different, isn’t she? You’ve said yourself a million times that doctors shouldn’t treat the people they love because they lose objectivity.”

“I don’t --”

“Don’t bother lying, Doctor,” Clara said, cutting him off. “Don’t even bother arguing with me. I know better.”

With anyone else under any other circumstances, Ian would _definitely_ have argued. But he knew that Clara was like a pit bull when she got something in her head, and a loud argument between the two of them could only draw unwanted attention. Let her think what she wanted. 

Besides, it’s not like it wasn’t true.

“I did want to ask you a favor,” she said, previous topic apparently forgotten.

“What’s that?”

“Tomorrow is Bill’s birthday. I know you only have so much control, but could you _try_ to let her go on time? I want to take her to dinner and dancing. It’s a surprise though, so don’t mention anything, if you don’t mind.”

“I won’t say a word,” he promised. 

“Fantastic!” Clara jumped to her feet. “You don’t have anything else on the schedule, so if you want to go do rounds now, you could probably head home a little early. Check on your patient.”

Ian glanced over at the clock. Half three. That would put him getting to Rose’s around half four - an entire hour early. And the more time he had with Rose, the better. 

“Thank you, Clara,” he said, getting to his feet and tugging off his lab coat. “I’ll get Bill out of the clinic as quickly as I can tomorrow.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Go the fuck away.”

~*~O~*~

17 March 2012

 _He took a moment to gaze at the gift in front of him before he bent back to his work, using his tongue to map out her folds and lap up her juices. She undulated, grinding herself onto his face, and he wound one arm around her leg to hold her still while he feasted on her._

_“Ian, please…” she whimpered. “Feels so good…”_

_Sharpening his tongue into a point, he ringed and flicked her clit, eliciting a moan from her that he immediately set about trying to hear again. The tip of one finger circled her entrance, gathering some of the copious moisture, then slid inside. Rose gasped and he liked that sound, so he slid his finger in and out a few times before joining it with a second finger and stretching her a bit. He would need to prepare her more before he fucked her, he knew, but it was a start, and she had started babbling._

_“Please, Ian… I want you… please, PLEASE,” she cried. “Please fuck me.”_

_Oh, he was going to. His own need was riding him hard and his cock could cut glass right now, but he was going to make her scream before he surrendered. He wasn’t done worshiping her yet. Although, to be fair, he wasn’t sure he’d EVER be done worshiping her._

_His tongue explored her while he fucked her with his fingers, licking up her juices and thinking that he’d never tasted anything sweeter than her nectar._

_“Please let me come...please…”_

_He was more than happy to give in to that request. He made his tongue into a point again and went back to her clit while he curved his fingers upwards, rubbing against the ridged spot inside her._

_“Yes! YES!” she screamed, her hips bucking so hard she almost knocked him loose. “Oh, God, yes! I love you, I love you so much!”_

Ian woke up gasping, his body tingling, pleasure coursing through him as he came, the imagery still vibrant and still able to hear Rose profess her love for him.

Rose raised her head off of her pillow and reached for him. “Are you alright?”

“Fine! Fine,” he assured her, glancing over at the clock. The alarm was scheduled to go off in fifteen minutes. “Just had a dream, is all.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

_No, I want to make it reality._

Instead, he shook his head. “I’m going to take a shower in a minute. Go back to sleep, sweetheart.”

Rose didn’t need much encouragement for _that_. Ian laid quietly while he waited for the sounds of her gentle snoring to come, taking inventory of his current situation.

Bloody hell. He was still stubbornly, painfully hard, and despite the fact he could feel his come cooling and drying in his pants and pyjama trousers, he didn’t feel satisfied. He did his best to will his erection away, but it was useless. Once Rose was asleep he rolled over, shut off the alarm, then went to the closet and pulled out something to wear at the clinic, taking it into the en suite with him. 

Even thinking about something else hadn’t eased the pressure in his groin, so with a resigned sigh, he peeled off his pants and pyjama trousers, then got into the shower and soaped up his hand.

~*~O~*~

Ian heard Bill when she came in, but she didn’t call out to him. He assumed that she was busy working and kept editing the grant proposal she’d emailed him the night before to go over, hoping to get it done before patients started showing up. He was startled when he looked up from his laptop to find her standing in the door.

“Jesus fuck, Bill! Scared me to death!”

“Sorry about that,” she said, sounding completely unrepentant. “Didn’t mean to.”

He just grunted a response, then, “What did you want?”

“I met Rose.”

“I heard.”

“The pictures are nice but Clara was right. She's even cuter in person.”

Ian felt an irrational flare of jealousy, but tamped it down quickly. “She’s very cute.”

“Clara’s planning to invite her to lunch again Tuesday after her appointment.”

“She and I have a standing --”

“A standing what, Doctor?” 

Ian glowered, but Bill only smiled. He sighed. “You both need to leave Rose alone.”

“She needs friends.”

“You’re not trying to make fucking friends with her,” he snorted.

“Yes, we are. She’s a very nice girl who’s about our age, is new in town, and doesn’t seem to have any friends besides you. Why can’t we provide a little companionship for her?”

Ian ground his teeth. “Because this isn’t about companionship - for you. You’re trying to play matchmaker with Rose and me.”

“Why can’t we do both?”

"It won’t work, and you need to stay the fuck out of it."

"Nothing doing. We owe you."

"You don't owe me shit."

"We do. If it weren't for you, we wouldn't be together and happy. So we want to see you all coupled up and happy, too." He started to protest and she butted in. “You _deserve_ to be happy, Doctor. You know that, right?"

That shut him up. He deserved _some_ happiness, he supposed, but there was nothing he could ever do that would make him worthy of Rose, or the kind of happiness she could bring him. And that wasn’t even taking Eleanor into consideration.

“I’m just saying,” she went on. “It may not be Tuesday, since I know you and Rose have a standing _date_ on Tuesdays after her appointment, but Clara and I both want to get to know her. If for no other reason, she’s important to you and you’re important to us. So Clara is going to ask her to lunch again sometime soon. Go ahead and wrap your mind around it.” 

Ian sighed in defeat.

~*~O~*~

18 March 2012

~Ian: _boo_  
~Rose: _hey, you. where have you been? I’ve missed you today_  
~Ian: _I have a surprise for you_  
~Rose: _is it a forklift? I could use one lately_  
~Ian: _No, it’s not a forklift_  
~Rose: _a candlestick? Mum is getting on my nerves_  
~Ian: _my, but you’re fucking cheeky today_  
~Rose: _you love it. what’s the surprise, then?_  
~Ian: _if I told you, that would ruin the fucking surprise, now wouldn’t it?_  
~Rose: _I guess that’s true_  
~Rose: _what time will you be here?_  
~Ian: _about an hour_  
~Ian: _Is there anything I can bring you?_  
~Rose: _just you ;)_  
~Ian: _will do, sweetheart. be there in an hour_

Rose flitted about the cottage anxiously, straightening things that were already straight, fiddling with things mindlessly while her thoughts were firmly on Ian. She hadn’t seen him since yesterday morning when he left to go to the clinic. He’d told her that he had some errands to run after work, but she’d hoped that he’d come back to hers to sleep. He hadn’t, and she’d been disappointed when she woke up this morning and rolled over to find an empty bed. Then she’d fought the urge to text him this morning, not wanting to be a pest. She’d eaten breakfast alone, then surrendered to her mother’s request to go to lunch and the spa for a girls’ day, despite Jackie’s increasing insistence that Rose needed to quit teaching. 

When Ian had texted saying that he’d be at hers within an hour, the nail technician had just been finishing with Rose’s fingernails, but Rose was already well past done listening to her mother go on about overtaxing herself and germs she could pick up in the center. Relieved to hear from Ian for multiple reasons, she’d called a halt to the entire venture, despite the fact she was supposed to get her toes painted and some sort of mud mask. When Jackie had asked her why she was so anxious to get home, Rose had just flushed and her mother had smirked, but hadn’t asked any more questions. They’d arrived back at the mansion with twenty minutes to spare before Ian’s scheduled arrival and she had waddled out to the cottage as quickly as she could, then set about waiting impatiently. 

Here she stood now in front of her fridge, holding the photo she’d taken with Ian two weeks ago. The two of them had been sitting on the couch together, just a regular night, and she’d had the bright idea to take a photo. When she’d raised her mobile and pointed the front-facing camera at herself and Ian, he’d turned his head to kiss her temple and Rose had beamed, happier than she could ever remember being. The picture was lovely enough that she’d had a copy printed out and put it on her fridge, as well as making it her lock screen. She just loved looking at it and going back to that moment, that perfect moment. Ian had hinted around that he’d like a copy, but the idea made her flush for some reason, and she hadn’t given him one yet.

It was five minutes past his promised arrival time and she was just about to text him when she heard the crunch of tires in her driveway. She replaced the photo on the fridge hurriedly, threw herself onto the couch, and snatched up a book, assuming the most casual pose she could in the hopes that he wouldn’t know she’d been a wreck while she waited for him. She opened the book to a random page, not even seeing what was there, while she listened for him to come inside. A car door shut and she heard his footfalls in the driveway approaching the side door. There was a slight beeping when he punched in the code to unlock the door, then it swung open and he called out, “Sweetheart?”

“In the lounge!” she called back, then beamed at him when he rounded the corner. It had only been a bit more than twenty-four hours since she’d seen him, but that was entirely too long in Rose’s opinion and she’d missed him more than was reasonable. 

He walked over to where she sat on the couch and bent to kiss her cheek, making her smile impossibly brighter. “You look gorgeous,” he told her, and she looked down at herself. It was just a blouse and her jeans, but she didn’t doubt his sincerity. 

“Thank you.”

He’d taken his usual position in the corner of the couch, raising his arm for her to slide under - which she did without hesitation. Once she was nestled into his side as snugly as she could be, he kissed the top of her hair and suddenly everything was right again. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” she told him honestly. “I still cough a bit sometimes, but I don’t feel bad.”

“That’s good. Sounds like you’ve got it on the run, sweetheart.”

“Must do,” she grinned, then laid her head on his shoulder. 

“I thought we decided on a name?”

“Huh?”

“I thought we’d decided the baby’s name was Eleanor?”

“We did,” she answered, confused. 

Ian tapped the baby name book lying on her leg. “Change your mind?”

“Oh! No. I, um…” She scrambled to come up with a reason she’d grabbed this particular book, then had a burst of inspiration. “She still needs a middle name.”

“That’s very true, she does,” he agreed. “What have you come up with?”

Caught out, Rose stammered. “Um, I’ve just been looking at the other names we discarded.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Eleanor Heather? Eleanor Sarah?” 

“Eleanor Sarah isn’t bad…” she defended. 

Ian scoffed. “If you like it, that’s all that matters.”

“That’s not true,” Rose protested, sitting up and looking at him. “It matters that you like her name, too.” 

His eyes softened and she wanted to kiss him so badly she could barely contain it. He’d welcome her kiss and he’d kiss her back, she was sure. But she was still afraid, and her cowardice wouldn’t let her make such a jump. 

“You haven’t asked about the surprise,” he said gently, and she narrowed her eyes in confusion for a minute. “The one I texted you about.”

“Oh!” Rose flushed a little in embarrassment. “I got excited because you were coming over and completely forgot about the surprise. What is it?”

Ian just grinned. “You’re ready to see it?” She nodded. “Alright, then.” He got to his feet and held out a hand to help her up.

“You don’t have it?”

“It’s outside. C’mon.”

He held onto her hand and led her outside. Rose hesitated when she got there, looking around, confused. Ian grinned to himself, but looked a little anxious.  
“Ian...where’s your car?”

He gestured towards the SUV in front of them. “Here it is.”

Rose’s jaw dropped. “You bought a new car?!”

“I did. Surprised?”

“I’m shocked! Why did you do that, Ian? You love your car!”

He just shrugged. “It was too fucking small. You were having a hard time getting in and out of it, and that was only going to get worse before it got better. Besides, there wasn’t much room for a carseat in that little sportscar. It barely had a fucking backseat. This SUV has plenty of room and the highest possible safety rating.”

She finally looked over at him, her eyes brimming with tears. “You did this for me and Eleanor?”

He didn’t deny it, and his voice was low when he spoke. “Do you like it?”

Rose dragged him down by the shoulders until she could get her arms around him and pulled him into a hug. She held him close, burying her face in his neck and inhaling his scent. Her voice was watery and breathy when she spoke. 

“Thank you, Ian.”

“You don’t need to thank me, Rose.”

“I do, too. You didn’t have to do this for us.”

“Your comfort and Eleanor’s safety are important to me, sweetheart. As long as you two are safe and happy, I’m happy.” 

She held on to him for a little longer, sniffling once or twice, then pulled away. Ian kept his hands on her bump, stroking it with his thumbs. 

“Don’t cry, sweetheart. I can’t fucking bear to see you cry.”

“These are happy tears,” she informed him, smiling and wiping her cheeks.

Ian wiped her other cheek with his thumb. “Oh, well. I guess that’s alright, then.” She huffed a little laugh and he leaned forward to kiss her forehead. “Do you want to go for a ride in your new wheels?”

“It’s not my car, it’s your car,” she protested. 

Ian just gave her a look with furrowed brows and pursed lips, his message obvious. Then his face cleared. “Do you want to go for a ride? It’s almost dinnertime. How about I take you to the baby store, and then to get dinner? Whatever you want. My treat.”

Rose nodded. “Far be it from me to turn down dinner with a handsome gentleman.”

He grinned, took her hand, kissed it, then led her to the passenger side of his new car.


	51. Chapter 51

20 March 2012  
Week Thirty 

Rose hadn’t wanted to come up to the mansion with him tonight after they had dinner to hang out with her mother while he shot pool, and he hadn’t been able to change her mind. She said she just wanted a quiet evening at home, and, well, he could hardly argue with that. He’d pulled out his mobile to cancel with Pete, but Rose had practically shoved him out the door with instructions to come back to hers when he was done playing. Nothing was said explicitly, but it was clear to Ian that he’d be spending the night tonight, and the prospect was thrilling as always. 

It seemed ridiculous that he would miss her hand in his when he walked the short distance from the cottage to the mansion, but he did. Even the simplest, most ordinary things were sweeter and more pleasant when he had Rose beside him.

He let himself into the mansion and headed for the billiards room. Pete wasn’t there, so Ian just racked the balls and started shooting, figuring a little extra practice couldn’t hurt. Pete was beating him by four games, and the trash-talk was getting ridiculous. Ian needed to get his shit together. 

There were only a handful of balls left on the table when Pete came striding into the billiards room. They greeted each other, and Pete apparently felt compelled to make a snarky comment about Ian practicing, then laughed when Ian told him to fuck off.

“Rose didn’t come with you tonight?” he asked, lining up a shot.

“No, she said she wanted a quiet night at home.”

Pete snorted. “More likely she wanted a break from me and her mother asking her to quit the center.”

“Possibly. Probably.”

“I was hoping she’d come with you tonight, I was going to talk to both of you. But the more I think about it, it may be best just to talk to you about it first. I’d like to keep Rose out of it as long as I can.”

Ian felt a prickle of dread. “I don’t fucking like the sound of this.”

“Settle down, it’s nothing nefarious.”

“What the fuck is it, then?”

“Torchwood has been on the hunt for a pediatrician for Eleanor.”

It sprung to Ian’s lips to ask just why the fuck she couldn’t see a regular pediatrician, but he knew better. But just the fucking thought of his Little Face at Torchwood with those arseholes running experiments on her… he felt like his bones were full of glass. “I’m not entirely sure I want her to see a Torchwood doctor,” he said as calmly as he could muster.

“She won’t be seeing a Torchwood doctor. Not exactly. We’re hiring a doctor specifically for Eleanor. Got one in mind, actually, and I’ve got an interview set up with him on Friday. That’s what I was going to tell you and Rose.”

“Who is he?”

“His name is David Garrison, and he’s an actual pediatrician with a background in xenobiology. We found him in the American Territories. He’s a young fellow, early thirties. Married with twin toddler daughters. We’ll be relocating him to London if he takes the job, and setting him up in a private practice here.”

“You mean ‘if we choose to hire him’,” Ian challenged, aware that he was teetering on the brink of overstepping - possibly overstepping entirely - but not giving a fuck.

Pete gave him a shrewd look but Ian didn’t flinch and neither did Pete. “Yes, that’s exactly what I mean.”

Ian nodded, satisfied for the moment, but his dour expression prompted Pete to speak. “Ian, I wouldn’t knowingly put Eleanor in the care of someone who wasn’t the absolute best candidate for the job. I’ve had a team of agents researching pediatricians for the last three months, and Garrison keeps rising to the top. I’ve spoken with him, he’s a nice bloke. I know you’re protective of Rose and Eleanor, but I need you to trust me on this and give Garrison a chance. I would never endanger either of them. I love them, too.”

He chewed on that for a minute, then sighed. “I’ll talk to Rose. What time is the interview?”

“Half three on Friday.”

“I’ll be there.” It was a statement of fact, one that Pete accepted. “And I’ll do what I can to...to ‘prime the pump’ as it were with Rose. Prepare her for the idea. But she’s not going to want to meet him and to be honest, I don’t want her anywhere near this fucker yet, either. Not until we know he’s safe.”

“That’s the plan. And while we’re on the subject of her safety…”

Ian threw up his hands. “Oh, hell. What the fuck now?”

“Cor, you’re a lot more unpleasant when Rose isn’t around.”

Ian spun around to find Jackie Tyler smirking at him from the doorway, her arms crossed and hip cocked. “Is my daughter really that good an influence on you?”

“What do you want, Jackie?”

“Oi, now, don’t be rude. I need your help.”

He turned to stare at Pete who shrugged helplessly, shaking his head. “This was entirely her idea.”

“But you agree with me,” Jackie shot at him.

“Of course I do, darling.”

Ian glanced back and forth between Jackie and Pete. “Why I do I feel like a fucking toy being passed around?”

Jackie snorted. “Nobody’s going to play with you here, love. That’s up to Rose.”

He felt his ears catch fire and Pete groaned. “For God’s sake, Jacks…”

“What did you want, Jackie?” Ian managed to get out. 

“I need your help.”

“So you said. With what?”

“I’ve been after Rose for weeks to quit teaching at that center, and she won’t listen to me. But she _will_ listen to you.”

Ian had been wanting her to quit - or at least cut back her hours - for a while now, but Rose seemed to resent her mother’s demands so much that he hadn’t said anything. The plan had been to wait until he just couldn’t stand it anymore, and then couch it from a safety standpoint. The time was getting close, honestly. But he hadn’t expected to be recruited. 

“And just what exactly do you expect me to say?”

“Tell her that it’s not healthy for her to be working like that, especially in a high-risk pregnancy. It doesn’t matter what you say, really. If you tell her you think she should quit, she’s almost certainly going to quit.”

He scoffed. “You seem to think rather highly of my ability to convince your daughter to do anything.”

Jackie gave him a piercing look, like she was reading all his secrets. “I don’t think you quite understand just how influential you are over my daughter.”

Pete’s mobile sounded off and he dug it out of his pocket, swiping the screen and reading. “Damn,” he muttered. “I’ve got to go to work. Ian, we’ll catch up another time. Thank you for talking to Rose, for both of us.”

“I didn’t --” he began, but didn’t get to finish before Pete was gone. He sighed, then turned to see Jackie looking at him expectantly. He didn’t pretend not to know what she wanted.

“I’ll talk to her. But I’m not fucking promising anything,” he warned her.

Jackie smiled brightly, clearly happy. “Thank you, love.”

“You’re welcome,” he fairly muttered. “I guess I’ll go do that now, since Pete’s gone. Have a good evening, Jackie.”

Ian left the room, getting as far as the foyer on the way to the back door, when he heard Jackie behind him. 

“The Doctor would approve of you, you know.”

He stopped in his tracks and turned around, genuinely confused. “I’m sorry?”

“I said, the Doctor would approve of you and Rose, of what you’re trying to do here.”

He wasn’t quite sure what he thought of that, but couldn’t stop himself asking: “What makes you say that?”

Jackie approached him, crossing the expansive foyer. “He loved her, loved her deeply and almost from the moment they met. The first time I met him, I knew. I slapped him, called him names, accused him of all sorts, but he stayed with Rose.”

Ian suddenly had an inkling of empathy for the Doctor. Just a smidge.

“All he ever wanted was for her to be safe and happy. That was all he really cared about.”

He shook his head, ready for this particular conversation to be over. “I’m not quite sure what you’re getting at, Jackie.”

“Himself can’t be here, but I know he’d want Rose to be taken care of. He’d want her to be loved. And he’d want those things for his daughter, too, if he knew about her. It would make him happy to know that she’d found you, and that you love her and Eleanor like you do. If he could, I bet he’d thank you.”

“Jackie, I --”

“I just wanted you to know that.”

His thoughts were awhirl and he couldn’t think of anything to say but, “Thank you.”

Jackie patted his shoulder, then surprised him further when she pulled him into a hug. He returned it a little stiffly, confused yet again.

“Thank you, Ian.”

“For what?” 

“For loving Rose and Eleanor like you do. It makes me happy, too.”

Ian closed his eyes, knowing he was caught out. There was nothing to say but, “You’re welcome.”

She pulled away, patted his cheek, and started towards the lounge, calling over her shoulder, “Don’t forget to talk to Rose!”

Ian stood in the foyer of the mansion and watched Jackie go, pondering. For the first time, it really hit home that Eleanor’s father would be completely absent from her life. He wouldn’t see her first steps, wouldn’t take her to her first day of school, wouldn’t watch her graduate with his chest bursting with pride. He’d miss every birthday party, every milestone. He’d never get a chance to love her, even from a universe away, because he had no idea she existed. There would be a hole in his life, even though he’d never know it.

But there was no need for there to be a hole in _Eleanor’s_ life. Ian was here, standing at the ready, absolutely dying to fill that void. To be her father.

He left the mansion, opening the back door and starting the walk across the garden to Rose’s cottage, letting his thoughts chase each other around. He’d never really contemplated fatherhood until the last few months. After he and Jenn fell apart, he’d assumed that the ‘having a family’ ship had sailed. That knowledge hadn’t destroyed him: he’d been just fine with the idea of being a confirmed bachelor. But now… Now he was in love with Rose and all he wanted was to be Eleanor’s father. 

But it would never happen, and he needed to get that through his head. Rose was too young for him, too perfect, and, even worse, she was still in love with the Doctor. It was enough that she was allowing him to be as close to her as he was, allowing him to spend the night and to hold her, to be some part of this baby’s life. That was enough. 

It would have to be enough.

He opened the door to the cottage and went inside, tossing his coat over the back of the chair and calling out for Rose. She answered from the lounge, so he went that way. 

She was on the couch with her bare foot perched on the coffee table in front of her, grunting and stretching, trying to reach her toes and having a very difficult time. 

“Sweetheart, what are you doing?” he demanded, rushing over to sit beside her.

Rose was panting just a bit from exertion, but dropped her foot from the coffee table. “We left the spa early the other day, which was fine. I didn’t like it there, anyway. But my toes look horrendous.” Her voice cracked and he was alarmed to see her eyes filling with tears. “I should be able to paint my toes, Ian! Why’d I have to get so fucking fat?!”

Her face crumpled and she buried it in her hands. Ian waited only a second before he scooted closer to her and pulled her into his arms. 

“Sweetheart, you’re not fat. I know it feels like you are, but you’re not.”

“Look at me, Ian! I’m disgusting!”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at that and kissed the side of her head. “You’re not even in the fucking vicinity of disgusting, Rose. You’re absolutely fucking gorgeous.”

She didn’t say anything for a minute, just snuffled into his shoulder. Then, very quietly, he heard, “Yeah?”

“Yeah, sweetheart. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.” Rose went quiet again and he just rocked her a little, holding her close, then he had an idea. “How about if I paint your toes?”

She raised her head to look at him. “What?”

“Why don’t you let me paint your toes for you? I’d be happy to.”

“You’re willing to touch my feet?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“They’re my _feet_.”

“Sweetheart, think about what I do for a living.” Rose seemed to be considering this. “Touching your little feet are not going to gross me out.”

She didn’t say anything for a second, and didn’t meet his eye. Then, very softly, she said, “You really don’t mind?”

He kissed her hand. “Not at all. It would be my honor. Scoot back and put your feet in my lap.”

She did as requested, smiling a little now, and Ian shook the bottle of nail polish before he opened it up and got started. He couldn’t stop his mind from wandering, and he imagined himself painting Eleanor’s tiny fingers and toes in a couple of years. 

“You weren’t at the mansion long. Did something happen?”

“Pete got called into work.”

“Did you two get to play at all?”

Ian shrugged. “Long enough. He’s bringing in a pediatrician for Eleanor, the interview is Friday.”

“He’s what? I don’t want to see a Torchwood doctor!”

“Settle down, sweetheart,” he soothed her, putting his hand on her ankle and rubbing gently. “You don’t have to go.”

“I don’t?”

“No. I’m going to the interview with Pete. If either of us don’t like him, he’s gone and you’ll never lay eyes on him. But he sounds like a good doctor. Pete’s done a fairly extensive amount of research on him, and I plan to do the same. Neither of us are going to let him anywhere near you or Eleanor if we get a bad feeling. You and the baby are going to be safe, I swear.”

She just stared at him for a second and he longed to kiss her, but there was nothing he could do. So he went back to her toes, painting them carefully. 

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For taking care of me.”

“You never have to thank me for that, sweetheart. Nothing makes me happier than knowing you’re safe and happy.”

Jackie’s words about the Doctor floated back into his mind, but he did his best to dismiss them. 

“Did you see Mum?”

“I did,” he answered carefully, not looking up from her middle toe. 

“Did she recruit you to get me to quit teaching at the center?” Now he looked up, surprised. Rose sighed. “I knew it was only a matter of time before she did that.”

“Sweetheart, I told her I’d talk to you, but it’s all up to you. It’s your choice.”

“What do you think?”

He blinked at her. “Me?”

Rose rolled her eyes. “Yes, you. What do you think? Should I quit?”

“That’s not my call,” he deflected. “I’m already being high-handed and keeping you from the interview on Friday.”

“I don’t _want_ to meet this doctor until we know it’s safe, and you knew that, so you’re doing me a tremendous favor. But really. What would you tell me if… What would you tell me if I was your girlfriend...or something?”

Ian’s blood froze in his veins and he did his best not to give away how much he wanted that to be true. Instead he said, “Even if you were my girlfriend, I wouldn’t have any claim over you, no right to tell you what to do. You are your own woman.”

She huffed. “You’re being stubborn.”

“I think you’ll find I usually am.”

“What if Eleanor was your daughter? What would you want me to do then?”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. She was hitting all of his buttons and had no idea. He couldn’t tell her that her being his girlfriend, Eleanor being his daughter would be a literal dream come true. Being reminded of the things he couldn’t have was painful, and he gave up trying to sidestep her.

“I think your mum is right, as much it pains me to say it. Your pregnancy has been entirely normal, but it’s still very high-risk. Something… unusual could manifest at any time.”

“Teaching eight-year-olds to paint isn’t going to make Eleanor grow a second heart,” she scoffed.

“No, it won’t. But you’re more and more exhausted when I pick you up in the evenings - don’t try to deny it. Making a baby is hard work, sweetheart, and it’s harder for you because Eleanor’s… special.” 

“Ian…”

“You asked what I thought, and that’s what I think. I think you should consider quitting sometime soon - or at the very least, cutting your hours.”

“Okay,” Rose said easily, and his head snapped up.

“Come again?”

“I want to finish this particular class I’m doing. It ends on the 4th of April. That’ll give Osgood time to find a replacement for me.”

He blinked at her, feeling stupid. “You’re going to quit?”

Rose shrugged. “I was going to keep working as long as I could, but if you think I should go out, I’ll go out. You’re an expert and you care about Eleanor, too. Your opinion carries a lot of weight.”

Ian grabbed for her hand that was resting on her knee and kissed it. “Thank you, sweetheart. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now,” she wiggled her left foot. “This one needs a second coat, too.”

His eyes twinkled when he grinned up at her. “Whatever the lady wants.”


	52. Chapter 52

29 March 2012

~Ian: _what are you up to?_  
~Rose: _wishing I had some doritos_  
~Ian: _what the fuck are doritos?_  
~Rose: _corn chips that are flavored with cheese and stuff_  
~Ian: _oh you mean taggies?_  
~Rose: _your universe is weird_  
~Ian: _what do you want for dinner?_  
~Rose: _doritos_  
~Ian: _...Rose..._  
~Rose: _I don’t care, honestly. whatever you want._  
~Ian: _I’ll cook tonight_  
~Rose: _sounds good :)_  
~Ian: _be there in 30 minutes_  
~Rose: _see you then!_

Rose was tired. She’d had no idea that painting the nursery would take so long, or be such a physical task. It wasn’t that big of a room, after all. She was sure that the slowness was due to her being so generally slow lately, at everything. But she had to say that she was pleased with the way the one wall she’d managed to finish in the last three hours had turned out. 

She turned to look at the other three walls, feeling something like dismay. Maybe Ian was right and she should hire a decorator - at least for this part. Or maybe she could just have an accent wall...

The side door opened and Ian called out to her. “Sweetheart?”

“I’m in here!” she called back, then set to work on the smallest wall - the one that housed the closet. She’d barely gotten any pink on before Ian came into the room and gaped at her, horrified. 

“Just what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

She snorted. “I’m painting, you daft thing. What does it look like?”

“Rose!” he burst out, and she had to bite back a giggle at the thought of him stomping his foot like a toddler. 

“What?”

“Sweetheart, you shouldn’t be doing this.”

Rose went back to painting. “ _Some_ body’s got to do it. She’ll be here in less than two months!”

He stepped over and took the roller from her hand, laying it on the tray. “You’re right. We’ve got two months. That’s plenty of time.”

She sighed expansively, putting her hands on her hips. Secretly, she was grateful for his protectiveness making her stop, but she couldn’t give up without at least a _little_ fight. “I’m not a wilting violet, you know.”

“No, you’re a pregnant Rose.” A little giggle escaped, she couldn’t help it, and he took her hand. “Let me do all the hard work, alright? The only thing you need to worry about painting is pictures for her wall.”

“Ian…”

He kissed her knuckles and gave her That Look. “Please, sweetheart, let me take care of you.” He laid his hand on her belly. “Let me take care of Eleanor. It’s all I can do.”

Rose didn’t know if he was aware of the effect he had on her when he looked at her like that, with his blue-grey eyes so sincere and full of love. His touch thrilled her to the very marrow of her bones and soothed her at the same time, and honestly, she’d have walked through fire or built a ladder to the moon if he’d asked it of her. Anything he wanted. She just wanted to make him happy - and she knew that all he wanted was to make _her_ happy. She loved this man more than she’d ever be able to express in a hundred lifetimes. 

“Alright,” she acquiesced. “I was getting tired, anyway, and I need a bath.”

Ian beamed at her, then leaned over to kiss her forehead. “Thank you, sweetheart.” Eleanor kicked under Ian’s hand, and he rubbed a circle before he bent down to speak to her. “ _Ho bisogno del tuo aiuto che si occupa della mamma. Hai bisogno di farle sapere quando lei fa troppo. Puoi farlo per me?”_ Eleanor kicked again and Rose laughed, amazed. It almost seemed like she was answering him. He pressed a kiss to her belly and spoke again. _Grazie, piccolo volto. Ti amo._ ”

The sound of him murmuring in Italian was enough to make her knees feel weak, and she knew, in that moment, that she wouldn’t be able to keep her secret much longer. She was going to have to be brave and tell him she was in love with him, and soon. 

“I need a bath,” she parroted herself. Her voice was a little squeaky and she cleared her throat. “I think I’ll do that while you cook.”

“Good idea,” he answered, and she started down the hall towards her bedroom, still holding his hand. “A shower could help you relax, too.”

“No, I meant an actual bath,” she explained. “I want to get into the tub and soak for a while.”

He sighed and pulled her to a stop. “Rose…”

“What?”

“It’s not entirely safe to have a bath.”

“Why on earth not?”

“You could get overheated.”

Rose snorted. “Is that all you’ve got?” He looked a bit caught out and she squeezed his hand. “I’ll be fine. If I get hot, I’ll get out. Alright?”

“I don’t fucking like this,” he grumbled, following her into the bedroom. 

“I know you don’t, but I’ll be fine. I swear.”

Ian sighed, then turned and went into the en suite. Rose raised a brow and followed him. “What are you doing?”

“Making sure the water is the right temperature.”

“Ian --”

“No, don’t give me that face. Don’t fucking fight me on this, alright? I need to know you’re safe, Rose. Let me pull the damn bath water.”

She smiled and rolled her eyes, shaking her head indulgently, then stepped over to where he was perched on the side of the tub, kissing the top of _his_ head for a change. “Whatever makes you feel better. I’m going to get my clothes together.”

Five minutes later, she had finally run him out of the room and was sliding into the tub gracelessly. The water was warm - although not as warm as she would like - and it lapped over her breasts when she laid back against the rolled towel she was using as a pillow. She relaxed for a long while, listening to the faint hissing of the bubbles Ian had put in for her and, distantly, through a couple of walls, the sounds of him making dinner. With no one to judge her, she allowed herself a little fantasy where this was her life, this man was hers and he was making dinner for her before they curled on the couch together, like any other couple. 

She imagined that Ian started murmuring to her - in Italian. She had no idea what he was saying, it could have been a soup recipe for all she knew, but the cadence and rhythm of it, mixed with the low, growly tone of his voice, his light brogue and her imagination - which allowed her to come up with her own meanings for what he was saying - meant that it didn’t matter if she understood him or not. His lips were moving against the skin of her neck and she felt her body respond; there was a pleasant tingling between her legs and her nipples tightened. 

In the tub, she pressed her legs together to try to alleviate some of the pressure she felt, but it merely intensified. She slid her hands slowly up to her chest, biting her lip and closing her eyes, massaging her tender breasts and plucking at her nipples a bit. 

_Ian got to his feet and offered his hand to her. “Come on, sweetheart,” he said. “Let’s go to bed.” Rose was only too happy to follow where he led - she’d ALWAYS follow where he led, going to the bedroom to make love to the man of her dreams was no hardship._

_He wasted no time once they were there, sweeping her into his arms and kissing her. Their clothes were suddenly gone and his hands slid all over her body slowly, even while his mouth left hers and started kissing a trail down her neck. She clung to him, loving the feel of his skin under her fingers, following him when he laid her down on her bed._

_Rose being flat on her back gave him more range of movement, and he let his hands drift lower, as well as his mouth. Before she knew what was happening, he was sucking one breast and his long, slender fingers were parting her folds._

She pinched and manipulated one nipple, trying to create the feeling of his mouth on her breast and sent her right hand down to touch herself. She was wet, incredibly wet, and this moisture had nothing to do with the bath. 

_Ian used his finger to gather moisture while he laid himself beside her. She turned her head towards him, tilting her body just a little, kissing him deeply. Rose’s hips undulated under his hand but he kept his finger on her most sensitive spot, stroking in fast, messy circles. She clung to him, her nails digging into the skin of his back, and moaned into his mouth. Their kiss was nothing short of carnal until Rose broke away, panting for air and whimpering._

_“Yes, Ian… please…”_

_“Come for me, Rose,” he encouraged her. “I love you so much, so fucking much... I want you to come apart for me. Want to know I made you feel good. Come, sweetheart.” And then he murmured against her ear again in Italian._

She pressed the pad of her finger against her clit, imagining it was Ian’s hand and not hers, and flew apart, just barely able to bite back the cry of his name. Slowly - so slowly - she came down from the high she’d just given herself in his name, and while she floated she imagined what afterglow with him must be like. She was certain he’d hold her close and tell her he loved her over and over… he’d probably skate his hands over her skin and make her shiver, then tease her about it a little before he pulled a blanket over them to keep her warm. 

In other words, he’d be perfect. He’d be Ian. 

Rose sighed then shivered, displacing the water. She’d been in there a long time and the water was more than a little cold. It seemed her bath was over, but that was alright. It just meant she got to spend some time on the couch with Ian now. 

With her foot, she flipped the lever that let the water out and laid there while it drained away. She shivered again once it was gone and the cool air was hitting her wet skin, then started shifting around, trying to get out of the tub. 

She couldn’t. 

Panic crept up on her quickly, and she turned her body this way and that, trying to get up. But her feet kept slipping on the floor of the bathtub and she wasn’t able to get any traction. 

As if some deity were mocking her (and throwing her a lifeline at the same time), there came a knock at the bathroom door. “Sweetheart? Are you alright in there? You’ve been in the bath a rather long fucking time…”

Like lightning, Rose debated her choices to herself. She could continue to try to get out of the tub and potentially fall, or she could allow Ian to come in and help her. She looked down at herself with something like despair. This was _not_ the way she’d wanted him to see her naked for the first time. But dire straits…

“I’m… I’m stuck,” she answered, absolutely humiliated. “I can’t get out of the tub.”

“Do you need me?”

Rose grabbed the rolled up towel she’d been using as a pillow and unrolled it, wrapping it around herself as best she could before she replied. “Yes.”

There was silence on the other side of the door for just a second, then Ian cleared his throat. “Alright, I’m coming in there.”

The door swung open and Rose felt hot, her face, chest, and ears flaming. “Hi,” she said, trying for casual. 

Ian crossed the bathroom in two strides, bending over and sliding his arms under hers. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you out of that tub.”

Rose put her arms around his neck, and with Ian’s help she was able to get her feet under her. But he didn’t let go right away, and neither did she. Unfortunately, that left no one holding the towel and it slipped, nearly exposing her breast before she caught it. She looked up at Ian, wide-eyed, and the only way she could describe the look in his eyes was ‘ _hungry_ ’. She took note of his hands splayed across the bare skin of her back and his cock pressing against her belly. She’d never wanted anyone or anything so much in her life as she wanted him in that moment, and her eyes went to his lips. She could kiss him and end this ridiculous game they were playing. She wanted to kiss him. She _needed_ to kiss him. And by God, she was _going_ to kiss him, right now.

He blinked and shook his head before she could do anything, letting go of her and taking a step back. “I’m just going to, um, I’m going to go. Dinner. Right. I’ll, um, I’ll finish up dinner while you get dressed. Yeah?”

She nodded, completely disappointed. “Yeah. I’ll be out in a few minutes. Have to dry my hair.”

“Take your time,” he said with a wave, not looking at her when he left the en suite. 

Rose sighed as the door closed behind him, rubbing her forehead. Another ten seconds and she’d have thrown herself at him - naked in the middle of her en suite. If she _had_ to do it while she was pregnant, she _certainly_ didn’t want to seduce him in the loo! She’d ask herself what she was thinking but she knew the answer to that - when he was so close, touching her that way, it was nearly impossible to think. 

She groaned as she pulled on her clothes, then a thought occurred to her and she froze. Maybe _he_ was in the other loo wanking right now. 

Giggling, she started to dry her hair and get ready for dinner with Ian.

~*~O~*~

30 March 2012

“So what did Rose say?”

“About what?”

“About not being here today.”

“She was relieved,” Ian said, making himself a little more comfortable at the small conference table in Pete’s enormous office while they waited for this Garrison bloke. “She didn’t want anything to do with him until after this meeting.”

Pete nodded. “Good. I suppose --”

He didn’t get to finish before his intercom buzzed, letting him know that Dr. Garrison had arrived. He got to his feet and went to the door to greet the doctor, and Ian decided he might as well stand up, too. 

“Dr. Garrison,” Pete was saying when they walked back in. “I hope your flight was comfortable?”

“Yes, it was very nice,” the man answered, and Ian got his first look at the American. He was tall, a bit taller than Pete but just a touch shorter than Ian, with brown hair and horn-rimmed glasses. He was well-dressed with the American accent so many women found sexy, and Ian scowled. Rose would probably say he was good looking, and that immediately went down as a strike against him. 

“Good, good. Please come in and have a seat.” Pete extended his hand to indicate Ian, “This is Dr. Ian Docherty, he’ll be joining us. He’s, er, he’s a family friend.”

Ian wanted to rail against that bland description, but knew that there was nothing else for Pete to say, really. Technically, that’s all he was. 

The American put his hand out to shake Ian’s. “Ah, I’m pleased to meet another doctor. What specialty?”

“Obstetrics.”

Garrison raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Are you caring for Miss Tyler?”

“Not clinically.”

He could tell the other man was taken off guard by that answer and smirked, glad for it. He was also glad to spot a wedding band that he hadn’t noticed before, reminding him that Garrison was married with young children.

“If you’d like to sit…” Pete smiled graciously and Garrison nodded before he took a seat. “Well, Dr. Garrison, you already know the basics of this case.” Garrison nodded. “We’re here to get to know you a bit, see if you’re the right fit for Rose and Eleanor.”

“Where is the mother? Rose? Isn't this something she should be a part of?" 

"I speak for Rose,” Ian stated baldly. “You're not getting within ten goddamn miles of her _or_ this baby unless I’m -- unless _we’re_ satisfied.”

Garrison blinked, surprised, and Pete cleared his throat. 

“Yes, well, let’s start with your background…”

~*~O~*~

Two hours later, Ian shook Garrison’s hand before Pete escorted him out of the office. He resumed his seat, but kicked his feet up on the table in front of him, taking the opportunity to stretch his legs. Within thirty seconds, Pete was on his way back over, giving Ian a look.

“What?”

“Happy now?”

Ian shrugged. “I think you know me well enough to know I’m not going to be happy with fucking _anyone_. That said, I think he’ll do. Rose is going to like him and he seems fairly fucking competent. That’s what’s important.”

“You were certainly tough on him,” Pete observed, dry. 

“Would you rather I not be? That yankee twat could have been a simpleton or an arsehole. He could have had no bedside manner. There could have been any number of things wrong with him.”

“But there weren’t.”

“Doesn’t seem to be,” Ian conceded.

Pete’s expression was intense and searching. " _'I speak for Rose'_?" 

"I do. And I have the benefit of being a medical professional."

"She's my daughter, you know.”

Ian raised his eyebrows. "Are you actually going to fucking claim that you're the only one in this room that --" He froze, stumbling. "...That cares about her?"

“I wouldn’t dare,” Pete assured him, then changed the subject. “Jacks is cooking tonight, if you and Rose would like to eat with us.”

“I’ll pass it along,” he said, pulling out his mobile to check the time and swearing a little when he saw he was running late, getting to his feet. “I’m on my way to pick her up now.”

Pete shook his hand, and Ian started towards the door. “What are you going to tell her?” he called to Ian’s back. 

Ian finished the text to let Rose know he was on his way. “That I think we’ve got a pediatrician.” Then he waved and let himself out of Pete’s office.


	53. Chapter 53

31 March 2012

Rose had asked him to meet her at the mansion to pick her up for the Vitex Gala, saying that she wanted her mother to fix her hair. He had never, in all his years, understood the length of time it took women to get dressed up, but he knew better than to complain about it to a pregnant woman. 

Unsurprisingly, Rose wasn’t ready to go when Ian got there, but he was mollified to see that Pete was waiting around for Jackie as well. They started a game of pool and there were only a couple balls left on the table when Jackie breezed in wearing an emerald green gown.

"Might have known I’d find you two in here. Pete, if we don’t hurry we’ll be late."

"Alright," Pete agreed, downing the last of his bourbon. 

Jackie turned to Ian. "Ian, love, Rose is very nearly ready, if you want to go on up and prod her along a bit. She could probably do with a hand to hold down the stairs as well."

He didn’t miss the quick look that Pete shot him, but he didn’t really give a fuck, either. Bidding the two of them goodbye and telling them he and Rose would be along in just a few minutes, he bounded up the stairs two at a time then turned right towards Rose’s old room. He knocked, and just a second later he heard Rose’s voice on the other side of the door. 

"I’m glad you came back, Mum, because - oh!" she exclaimed in surprise when she opened the door and spotted him. Ian didn’t say anything - he wasn’t quite able to speak. 

As she’d said, her gown was black, but it was anything but plain. The column gown was floor-length with a lace overlay that hugged her rounded belly, showing it off a bit. Sheer black lace covered her chest and arms to the elbow, leaving her shoulders bare, making him want to kiss them, to taste her skin. A cute little bow rested on the top of her baby bump. Her hair had been styled into a complicated chignon, and her makeup was understated - as was her jewelry. Ian gaped at her, helplessly entranced, until she smiled and took a step back, turning in a slow circle. 

"Do I pass muster, then?"

He shut his mouth that had been wide open and still gaping. Looking into her eyes, he told her as earnestly as he knew how, "Sweetheart, you are breathtaking."

A flush colored her cheeks a bit but she waved a dismissive hand. "You’re just saying that. I look huge."

Ian stepped further into the room and took her hand into both of his, kissing it. "I’m not just saying anything. It’s the truth. I’ve never in my life seen anything or anyone as fucking gorgeous as you."

Her flush deepened. "Thank you."

He cleared his throat, stopping himself before he did something foolish, like kiss her. "Are you ready to go?"

"I am. Hope you don’t mind, I may need your help. I don’t feel very safe going down the steps in my new heels when I’m so wobbly."

Ian narrowed his eyes at her. "You’re going to wear heels?"

"Yep!" She stuck her foot out from under the dress to show him her shoes. They were black and strappy with a modest heel and a buckle, but he knew without any room for doubt that she’d be miserable wearing them all night.

"Sweetheart," he began gently, "those shoes are going to hurt after a little while. You’d do better with flats."

"I’ll be fine," she waved him off. "I love wearing heels, they always make me feel more like a lady. These are even better because they have a little bit of sparkle to them. See?" She stuck her foot out again, playfully, for him to see.

He didn’t bother looking. "They’re lovely, Rose, but I’m worried about you. I don’t want you to be fucking hurting."

She grinned at him, then walked over to the vanity and grabbed a black clutch. "You’re such a worry wart. I refuse to let this pregnancy _totally_ define me. I’ll be perfectly fine, you’ll see."

Giving up, he said, "Alright, then. If you say so."

~*~O~*~

Ian swore under his breath when Henry pulled the car into the venue’s circle drive. A red carpet had been laid out from the entrance to the curb and multiple photographers were lined up behind a velvet rope that ran the length of it. He knew from past experience that the blood suckers would be there but had forgotten. They were currently taking photos of someone he couldn’t see, but he knew that their next target would be him and Rose.

"What is it?" Rose asked from beside him. 

"The fucking paparazzi."

Rose sighed, sounding resigned. "I might have known they’d be here. Why can't they leave us the fuck alone?"

He smirked at her in spite of himself. "I’m a terrible influence on you."

Rose gave him a look, then scoffed. "Please. I grew up on the estates. I’d straighten your hair if I really let loose."

Ian chuckled. Despite the situation they were about to walk into - his own personal definition of hell - Rose had the uncanny ability to make him laugh. Once he sobered, he took notice of her biting her lip and looking out the window anxiously.

"Hey." He took her hand and squeezed it. "This is going to be alright."

"I know. I just…" She caressed her bump. "What if they crowd me?"

"They won’t," Ian promised, shoving aside his own anxiety in the face of hers. "See that velvet rope there? They have to stay behind that. And if they _do_ try to crowd you… well… I’ve been in a bar brawl or two in my day."

Rose’s eyes widened but he got the desired smile - even if it was a little incredulous. "So you said. You really weren’t pulling my leg?"

"Would I lie to you?"

She giggled then sighed. "I never know what to expect from you."

"It’s part of my fucking charm."

She giggled as Henry brought the car to a stop in front of the red carpet, and Ian took a deep breath. "Chin up, shoulders back," he said, and Rose did as told. He took her hand into his and kissed the back of it, giving her a little wink. "Let’s see what we’re made of, you and I."

Rose nodded with a little smile. 

He hopped out of the car, buttoning his tuxedo jacket as he straightened, then put a hand in for her. She laid her hand in his, as graceful as any princess, and got to her feet with only minimal difficulty, considering she was seven months pregnant.

As soon as she stood someone shouted, "There she is!" and the flashes became nearly continuous. Rose smiled brightly, but didn’t let go of his hand. Ahead of them, a society couple he vaguely recognized moved to go inside and Rose turned to Ian. 

"Are you ready?"

"As ready as I’ll ever be."

"Let’s go, then."

Ian and Rose walked up the carpet, hand in hand, until they got to the place the last couple had stopped. Then they turned and posed, Rose still wearing a bright smile. The sight made Ian smile a little himself, and he let go of Rose’s hand to put his arm around her. 

The reporters started shouting questions. 

_"Rose, who are you wearing?"_   
_"Is it true that the two of you are planning a wedding in Paris?"_   
_"How are you feeling, Rose?"_   
_"Do you like being pregnant?"_   
_"Is it true the baby is a boy?"_   
_"Dr. Docherty, are you the baby’s father?"_

Ian’s smile became more of a wince at that last question, but Rose didn’t flinch. She turned and looked up at him, her expression happy. His own face cleared and she nudged him. 

“A wedding in Paris. That could be nice…” she teased, her eyes sparkling.

"You’re beautiful," he told her, as quietly as possible. "The whole world is watching, seeing how beautiful you are. We're going to go inside and sip champagne --"

"You’re going to let me sip champagne?" she interrupted with her tongue between her teeth.

He went on as if she hadn’t. "We’ll have a five star dinner, then dance the night away. Beat that for a date."

She didn’t say anything, but he saw her cheeks pink a little. "Let’s go inside," she suggested, "I think they have enough." He nodded. There was an explosion of light when he bent down impetuously to kiss her forehead and every photographer there snapped a photo. 

Her expression was radiant when he pulled away, and Ian fell just a little more in love with her. He caught her hand, lacing their fingers. Hand in hand, the pair walked the rest of the way into the venue. 

Once inside, they were greeted by an usher who pointed in the direction of the room where guests had gathered to sip cocktails before dinner. A waiter with a tray of champagne flutes offered both of them drinks, but Ian waved him aside.

"I thought you were going to sip champagne?"

"I will later."

"I don’t mind if you drink, Ian. You don’t have to drive us home or anything."

His heart fluttered a bit over the way she said ‘us’ and ‘home’ together, as if home really was the same place for both of them, not just him living with her part-time.

"I’m fine, sweetheart."

"Alright, if you’re sure," she said, sounding a bit skeptical. He slipped his arm around her waist, but before he could say anything, they were greeted by Pete and Jackie. The four of them chatted, interrupted frequently by other guests wanting to speak to Pete. Ian’s left arm never budged from its place around her, his hand resting in the curve of her waist. She didn’t seem to want him to move it - in fact, she stood very near him, her shoulder flush with his side. He never wanted her to leave.

After a while, Pete was called away by an investor. Jackie naturally went with him, and Rose watched them leave with a quirked lip.

"What?" he asked.

"My mum. I never would have expected her to take to this life so easily. She’s lived on the estates her entire life. I would have thought it would be harder for her to learn to be the elegant, refined lady she’s being."

"She’s done a good job."

Rose looked up at him with a wide-eyed smirk. "Did you just say something nice about my mother, Ian Docherty?"

He put on a stricken look. "I did no such fucking thing," he protested.

She giggled, and it brought a smile to his face. "You did, but I won’t tell. It can be our secret." Her tongue touched the corner of her mouth, and he melted.

"What about you? You seem to do rather well, yourself."

"Had a little experience with the Doctor," she informed him, and he melted in a different way. "We would meet kings and emperors occasionally on other planets, and I’ve been to court for a few kings in Earth’s history, too."

Ian felt like sagging. There was nothing he could ever do that would match up to that. 

To his surprise, she laid her head on his shoulder. "I hate being so tired all the time."

"Third trimester," he answered, trying to put his feelings of inadequacy behind him. "Your body is working hard, sweetheart."

"Can we make our way over to the bar? I’m getting thirsty."

Before Ian could answer they were approached by an acquaintance and his wife. He’d barely managed to introduce them to Rose when the woman smiled. "Look at you!" she cooed, reaching for Rose’s belly. Rose recoiled a little, nestling even closer to him, but didn’t make a scene. "You’re looking well."

"Thank you. I’m feeling well."

"And you’re having a little boy?"

Ian braced himself. He’d known that people would be asking about the pregnancy - there was no denying that she was pregnant, not anymore - but the thought of standing beside her while she spoke of herself as a single mother was wrenching. _You’re just a friend, Docherty. You’re just her friend._

"A girl, actually," Rose said, smiling. "We’re planning on calling her Eleanor."

The ‘we’ in that sentence caught his attention and his eyes widened. He didn’t miss the fact that the woman had the same reaction. "We?" she asked.

"Ian and I talked about it for months, I think we talked about every name in the book - literally! We both had our favorites, but Eleanor was one we both loved.”

Ian was gobsmacked, but doing his best to appear normal. Rose turned and beamed up at him, and it cleared his head a bit. "That’s right," he said while still looking down at Rose before he turned to the couple. "We haven’t decided on a middle name, though. Rose keeps picking fucking terrible names."

"You could always name the baby after a family member," the woman suggested. "Perhaps one of her father’s relatives?"

Ian bristled at the leading question from a woman he knew was nothing more than a fucking gossip hound, but Rose never faltered. "Could do. We’ll have to discuss that a bit more."

The husband stepped in then and started asking Ian about his work and other fucking boring topics and Ian made his pitch for the clinic. Rose seemed to listen attentively until they were gone, then she turned and looked up at him. 

"Think we could make our way over to the bar now? I really am parched."

"I’ll go get you a water. It wouldn’t do for you to be photographed next to the bar, even if you’re only drinking water."

"That’s true."

He kissed the top of her hair. "I’ll be back as quick as I can. Depends on this fucking crowd."

Before he could change his mind he turned and left, walking towards the bar. When he saw people he knew he just nodded politely and broke eye contact before they could stop him. He’d been correct in what he told Rose, it could cause a major scandal if she was photographed near the bar, but he was uncomfortable leaving her behind on her own. 

When he got to the bar, he placed their orders and glanced over his shoulder, looking for Rose. She was standing right where he’d left her, talking to another woman who appeared to be just a few years older than her. Judging by Rose’s stroking and patting of her belly, they were discussing Eleanor. Rose shifted back and forth from foot to foot, and Ian remembered her shoes. Checking his watch, he saw that they’d only been there for forty-five minutes, but this was only the cocktail hour - there was still the dinner and dancing portions of the evening left to go. They would be sitting for dinner, of course, but she would surely need a break before then.

He took the two glasses - one with water and one with scotch - and started picking his way through the crowd back to Rose. Once there -- 

"Ah! Speak of the devil." 

"Hamilton," Ian greeted the man, handing Rose her water, then taking the offered hand. As soon as the handshake was over, Ian’s arm went back around Rose’s waist. 

"It would seem congratulations are in order, Docherty. A baby girl, I hear?"

Ian froze and he felt Rose tense, as well. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. A little desperate, he looked down at Rose. Her gaze at him was both confident and questioning, as if she were waiting for him to answer and whatever he said would be correct. 

"Yes," he said in a firm, clear voice, turning back to Hamilton. "It’s a baby girl, due in May. We’re naming her Eleanor."

Rose beamed up at him, and he didn’t take the time to wonder if he’d done the right thing. Even if it was wrong, it fucking felt right.

~*~O~*~

If Rose hadn’t known better, she’d have believed that the entire room got a blanket text announcing that it was safe to talk to her about her pregnancy. Only close friends and family had talked about it before, but now everyone who approached her and Ian wanted to discuss it, and it seemed to be all anyone wanted to talk about. Older women told stories that reminded Rose of war veterans reliving their days of service. Younger women either looked at her with envy or a distinct ‘ _there-but-for-the-grace-of-God-go-I_ ’ look. Men clapped Ian on the shoulder in a gesture of congratulations - which made her smile, even if it shouldn’t have. Ian seemed to take it all in stride. 

She hadn’t even thought about it when she’d referred to them as a ‘we’, as if they were both Eleanor’s parents. It had seemed the right thing to do, the natural thing. She didn’t seem to think in the singular anymore, she thought plurally. Her mind seemed to have transitioned from ‘me’ to ‘we’ - her, Ian, and Eleanor. She was pregnant and she loved him. Eleanor’s natural father was gone, but Ian was here. He took care of her, took care of the baby. He went to every appointment and was completely involved in every decision she wanted him to be a part of. He was essentially acting as her baby’s father. She was happy about that.

Another friend of Ian’s approached them with his wife in tow, and Ian made introductions. Rose smiled politely and the two of them answered the now-familiar questions with Ian’s arm firmly around her. After what seemed like an eternity, the other couple left, and Rose blew out her cheeks.

"Are you alright, sweetheart?"

"I’m fine," she said in the brightest voice she could manage. 

It was a lie. Being poised and refined all the time was much more difficult than she’d thought it would be, much more difficult than it always had been, and her back and feet were killing her. Her cheeks hurt from smiling and her brain hurt from trying to keep up inane chatter. She wanted nothing more than for Ian to take her home and the two of them curl up on the couch to watch some movie. She couldn’t leave, though. It was the biggest night of the year for Pete, and she needed to be present. Besides, Rose Tyler was made of sterner stuff than that. She ate impossible for breakfast. 

...But her feet and back were in _agony_. Hopefully dinner would start soon and she’d be able to sit. Glancing at the clock on the wall, she saw that seating for the dinner didn’t even start for another twenty minutes, and she nearly groaned aloud. 

Ian took her water and set it on a nearby table without a word, then took her hand. "Come with me, sweetheart."

She didn’t even question him, just followed where he led. The two of them were stopped twice on the way to wherever he was taking her, and Ian was brusque to the point of rudeness both times. Once they got out to the expansive foyer, Ian led her down the corridor, popping his head into various doors until he found one he liked. He pulled Rose by the hand into the room.

It looked like a parlor of some sort and, like the rest of the venue, it was elegant without being too showy. A pair of comfortable-looking armchairs sat near the empty fireplace, and she longed to go plop down.

He led her over to one of them. Understanding what he was doing and blushing, she leaned against the arm of the chair. 

"Why don’t you sit?"

"I’m fine."

“You’re not. Sit down a minute, sweetheart. Get off your feet.”

Meekly, she did as instructed. He knelt down in front of her and lifted her skirt just a little, revealing her swollen feet. Rose put her hand on his shoulder just for the pleasure of touch and without a word, not even an ‘I told you so’, he took her shoes off, setting them to the side. Then he rubbed the red marks on her feet where the straps of her shoes had been. 

She sighed in relief, immediately feeling much, much more comfortable. Ian started to get to his feet, but Rose used her hand on his shoulder to stop him and pull him closer, hugging him tightly. 

"Thank you," she murmured into his shoulder, inhaling the scent of his aftershave and just… _him_. "You're too good to me."

"I haven't done anything fucking special."

"You have. You just knew I needed a break. Thank you." 

He kissed her temple. "You're welcome, sweetheart."

She still hadn't let go of him - didn’t _want_ to let go - but finally she released him. He kept his hands on what was left of her waist, she wasn’t sure why but didn't really care. He was touching her. His blue-grey eyes were on hers, and she couldn’t help the smile brought on by simply looking at him.

She looked away, though, before she could do something foolish, like kiss him. 

"Ugh. I don't want to put the shoes back on now."

"You don't fucking have to. Go barefoot."

"To a party like this?"

"Why the fuck not? Your dress is long enough to cover your little feet. And your feet will be under the table where nobody can see for dinner. Besides, nobody's going to criticize the heavily pregnant daughter of the CEO."

She looked uncertain. "It means I won't be able to dance with you later."

He smiled at her, warm and genuine, and cupped her cheek. "Sweetheart, I don't give a fuck if we dance or not. We can leave after dinner if you like and go home, that’d be fine with me. I'll be with you either way, and that’s the only thing I care about."

An idea hit her and she smiled sweetly at him. "Could dance now, if you want."

Ian smirked and she felt all wibbly inside. "Are you asking me to dance with you, Rose Tyler?"

"Sort of, yeah." Her tongue came out to the corner of her mouth and she felt a thrill when his eyes followed it. 

"I’d be honored, sweetheart." 

He got to his feet and held out his hands for her, helping her up. Once she was standing, he slid his right hand around her waist, prompting a little shiver in her. His left hand grasped hers and curled around it, pulling just over his heart. He started swaying them slowly, just a gentle side to side motion. Rose looked up at him, unable to keep the adoration out of her gaze. His eyes were soft and full of the same adoration, and she cursed her cowardice. If only…

Rose laid her head on his chest, feeling his warmth against her cheek, taking in his familiar scent - the smell she’d come to associate with comfort, safety, and happiness. Closing her eyes, she thought as hard as she could, hoping he’d know. 

_I love you, Ian Docherty. I love you so much it almost hurts sometimes. I love you…_

"Thought I was supposed to be the one asking _you_ to dance," he murmured into her hair.

"You already did, the night we met."

"Ah, yes. I remember."

"I told you I’d dance with you another time."

"And here we are at ‘another time’, I presume?"

At that moment, Eleanor gave an enthusiastic kick near the front of Rose’s belly, pushing against Ian. They pulled apart just a little, looked at each other, then laughed happily. 

Ian laid his hand on the side of her belly. "You know, Rose, I can’t help but feel there’s something between us," he commented, his eyes twinkling, stroking her bump on the ‘something’. 

Rose’s breath hitched just a little and she nodded. "Yeah," she said. "I think there is."


	54. Chapter 54

2 April 2012

Rose let herself into the side door of the cottage and waved at Henry, letting him know he could drive away. Ian had sent a text saying he couldn’t pick her up today, he had a meeting that was running late. Though Osgood had invited her to dinner again - they’d been going about once a week - Rose had chosen to go home and wait to see if Ian showed up or not. 

She was just looking at a frozen meal, contemplating it, when there was a knock at the door. Ian never knocked, hadn’t done for months, so, curious, Rose replaced the meal and went to answer the door. 

“Mickey!” she exclaimed when she saw who was there. “This is a surprise. I haven’t seen you in a couple of weeks.”

“Yeah, since I got shot.”

Rose closed the door behind him, feeling slightly guilty that she’d been so wrapped up in her own life that she hadn’t checked on him. “That sounds about right. Are you better?”

“Me? Oh, yeah. Dr. Bailey fixed me up right away, and Martha’s been taking good care of me at home.”

“You and Martha, eh?” Rose teased, her eyes sparking. “That’s going well?”

“Yeah. About as well as you and that arsehole.”

She froze up, her eyes widening. “What are you on about?”

“You and Docherty. I knew he was mad about you, but I honestly thought you had more sense, Rose. Falling for a bastard like that.”

“He’s _not_ a bastard!”

“He is! In the three years I’ve known him, I’ve never heard him say _anything_ nice, except when you’re there. He’s always been rude, unapproachable, and just an arsehole to everyone. Pete’s maids are terrified of him. Yet you run into his open arms, Rose. Why?”

She stammered. Now that she thought about it, the maids _had_ seemed a little skittish of Ian at first, but they were fine with him now. She’d been too deep in her grief over the Doctor to really pay much attention or care, but as she’d come out of her fog (thanks to Ian), she’d picked up on a little something. But she’d never seen him be anything but pleasant and funny in his social interactions. Was this more of what Clara and Bill had told her - that he’d been ‘grumpy’?

"This is just like the Doctor all over again,” he continued when she said nothing. “You're a couple, everyone knows you're a couple, but you lie about it." 

"I’m not lying, Mickey!"

Mickey ignored her. "There are even pictures of you two! Look!"

He threw the tab he held onto the coffee table and Rose leaned over to look at it. They’d made the front cover. She skimmed over the headlines that proclaimed them officially a couple, barely paying them any mind. It was the pictures that arrested her attention. In one, Ian had his arm around her and was looking at her as though the sun rose and set in her eyes. In the other he was leaning down, eyes closed, his lips pressed against her forehead. Her expression in both, though - there would be no denying her feelings for Ian to anyone who saw them.

"Why him, Rose?" Mickey’s tone had gentled somewhat, but there was still an edge of annoyance tainting his words. “You could have any man you wanted. There’s no man in this universe with half a brain who wouldn’t come running if you crooked your finger. Yet you choose the biggest arsehole I’ve ever seen. I mean, God, Rose! Even the old git in leather with satellite ears wasn’t this much of a prick!”

She felt tears of frustration welling up in her eyes and she clenched her fists, trying to maintain control. "He’s not, though. You may have known him longer, but you don’t really know him at all." 

"I know him well enough to know you’re too good for him. He doesn’t deserve you."

" _No one deserves to be stuck with me_!" she burst out, tears of anger and hurt spilling over onto her cheeks, feeling out of control of herself. "Look at me, Mickey! I’m a disaster! A gigantic, pregnant _disaster_! I’ve got hormones coursing through my veins so strong you can practically see them under my skin, I cry over the stupidest things, the press follow me around everywhere I go, and I’m fat to boot! Who in their right mind would put up with me? You lot only do because you have to, you’re my family. Ian doesn’t have to, but he still does! I don’t know why, but he does!" She buried her face in her hands and plopped down onto the couch behind her, sobbing, feeling irrational and broken.

Mickey sounded chastened. "Babe…"

" _Leave her the fuck alone_ ," she heard from the doorway, and before she could react, she felt Ian’s arms go around her, holding her gently, pulling her over towards him. She nuzzled into his chest a bit and he murmured in her hair. "It’s alright, sweetheart. Don’t cry."

"Look, Docherty," Mickey started, sounding agitated again, but Ian cut him off, and his tone was dangerous.

"No, _you_ fucking look. This is the second time I’ve caught you berating her, and I’ll not fucking stand for it again."

Mickey snorted. "I wasn’t _berating_ her, and even if I was, it’s not up to you to stand for anything."

" _I’ll not fucking stand for it_ , do you understand me?" he snarled.

"You’re not doing much to convince me you two aren’t an item."

"I don’t have to convince you of a goddamn thing. Mine and Rose’s relationship isn’t anybody’s fucking business but ours. We don’t have to justify shit - not to you, not to the media, not to anyone else. Now I’m telling you for what I hope is the last fucking time, _leave her the fuck alone._ " 

"I’m fine, Ian," she murmured, snuffling and looking up at him. 

He looked down to meet her gaze. His icy blue eyes were soft, and he cupped her cheek gently. "It’s not fine if he made you cry, sweetheart. I won’t let him hurt you."

"I cry at the drop of a hat these days," she said with a small, watery smile. "Yesterday I cried over a soup advert."

His eyes twinkled a little at that. "This is a bit more than a fucking soup advert."

"He’s my friend," Rose argued. "He’s known me since I was born."

“Yeah,” Mickey interjected. “And I know her better than anyone, except her mother.”

Ian glared daggers at Mickey. “Oh, you fucking think so?”

Mickey straightened, looking smug. “Yeah. I do.”

He opened his mouth to retaliate, but Rose laid her hand on his chest. The light touch was enough to quiet him. 

“Ian, don’t. He’s my _friend_ ,” she said, and there was a note of pleading in her voice. He looked down at her, clearly torn, then sighed, and she was relieved. 

“Fine,” he said grudgingly, but kissed the top of her head defiantly.

“Micks, I’ll text you tomorrow, okay?”

He looked from Rose to Ian, then back. “Are you okay if I leave?”

Ian bristled, but again, a soft touch from Rose settled him. 

“I’m fine, Mickey. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Mickey looked skeptical, but shook his head and left without another word, heading towards the door. Ian waited until the door closed then turned to Rose and pulled her a little closer. She felt him press a kiss to her hair, then lay his cheek against the top of her head. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner to stop him.”

“He didn’t hurt me, Ian.”

“He made you cry, sweetheart.”

“I told you, everything makes me cry lately. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but he was trying to protect me.”

“From me,” Ian said, his voice a little harder, although he still held her gently. “He’s trying to protect you from me.”

“He doesn’t know you like I do. He doesn’t see you with me, with Eleanor, so he doesn’t understand.”

“I would never hurt you, Rose. Never. I’d rather fucking die. You know that, right?”

She leaned back a little so she could look at him. “Of course I know that. It’s never entered my mind.”

Ian looked relieved and she smiled a little, then cuddled back into his chest. He scooted back until he was in the corner of the couch, his arms still around her, and she curled her legs up as best she could, leaning into him. He pressed another kiss to the top of her head and she smiled, sighing contentedly, blissfully happy to be where she was.

They were quiet for a while, his stroking of her arm the only motion, but after a while, Ian spoke. “Did you see the red tops?”

“Yeah,” she answered in a quiet voice.

Nothing was said for a minute, and he was still stroking her arm. Then he said, “Nice pictures of us.”

Rose gave a grin. “Yeah, they are. Might have to get a copy. Frame it.”

“Because surely we’ll never go anywhere again.”

“Exactly,” she giggled. “Do you want to watch a movie while we eat dinner?”

“Movie sounds good. Not dinner so much.”

“Why not?”

“I’m still keyed up over fucking Mickey. Maybe in a little bit.”

He sounded tired and she peered at him, but settled back down into his arms and he kissed the top of her head. “Don’t be. He means well. And he’d never hurt me, either.”

Ian muttered something she didn’t quite catch, but she could grasp the general gist of what he’d said. 

“You wanted to watch a movie?” she asked instead.

“Whatever you want to watch, sweetheart.”

Rose grabbed the remote. There was no point in pressing to find out what he wanted; she knew perfectly well that when he said that, he had no opinion and he meant it when he said whatever she picked would be fine. She scrolled around Netflix until she found a documentary on British history that she thought they might both enjoy - and she might learn from - and selected it. 

They watched for a while, curled up together, but Rose noticed that Ian kept sighing and rubbing his forehead. Usually when they watched a program like this, he took great pleasure in explaining all the things the show was getting wrong, but he’d been silent tonight. It was worrisome. She turned to look up at him. 

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound fine.”

“I’ve got a bit of a headache, is all.”

Rose pursed her lips. “Do you need some paracetamol?”

Ian shook his head. “No, I’m fine. Really.”

She didn’t believe him, and studied his face for a minute, debating, then scooted away, patting her leg. “C’mere.”

He gave her a lopsided grin, but did as she requested. Once he was lying with his head in her lap, he turned and nuzzled her belly a little, making her grin. Then she went back to watching her show, idly running her fingers through his hair. When the program was close to the end, her stomach growled. Ian opened his eyes at once. 

“You’re hungry?”

“A little.”

He sat up, turning until he was facing her. His hair was wild, sticking up everywhere, but she didn’t dare laugh. “Sweetheart, why didn’t you tell me? You have to eat when you’re hungry.”

“You were comfortable,” she defended herself. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”

Ian’s face relaxed into a soft smile and he reached for her hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing it. “Don’t ever neglect yourself for me, not in any way. You’re much more important than I am.”

“I’m not, though.”

“You are to me,” he said softly, and Rose felt herself melt. God, she loved this man. 

He kissed the back of her hand again, then patted it. “Now. We need to feed you. What are you hungry for?”

She thought for a second, trying to come up with something she wanted to eat - that wasn’t him. Really, she just wanted him to lay back down in her lap. 

“How about Chinese?” he suggested when she didn’t say anything. “You haven’t had dumplings in a while.”

Rose raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re going to let me have something that high in sodium?”

He rolled his eyes a little. “It’s been a while, right?”

“Couple weeks.”

“Go ahead and call it in.”

Rose didn’t have to ask what he wanted, she already knew. She placed the order and ended the call, setting her mobile back on the coffee table. When she turned to look at Ian, he was running his fingers through his hair, trying to tame it. She grinned at his futile attempt. He grinned back, then scooted back to his usual corner of the couch. “C’mere, sweetheart.”

She didn’t need to be told twice. She slid over next to him, curling up against his side and sighing contentedly when he laid his arm around her. When he kissed her hair, she beamed. 

“You haven’t shaved,” she accused him after noticing the prickly sensation on her scalp.

“I haven’t,” he confirmed. “Was thinking about trying out a beard. They’re in style now, or so I hear. What do you think?”

She thought he was completely bloody gorgeous and no hair on his face or lack thereof would change that, but didn’t dare say so. Instead, she scrambled for something she _could_ say. 

“I’m not sure, can’t quite picture it. I guess we’ll have to see what it looks like when it grows out.”

“Guess so,” he said, winking down at her. 

“How’s your head?” she asked while he used his mobile to find something else for them to watch. 

“Much better, thanks to you.”

“You’re welcome. I’m happy to do it anytime.” 

Ian chuckled. “I might just take you up on that.”

She really, really hoped he did. 

“Hey, Ian?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“What would you think about going to the theater again this weekend? The two of us.”

“I’m going out of town this weekend, to Glasgow. It’s my Auntie Grace’s birthday, and we’ll celebrate mine while I’m there.”

“Oh.” She tried not to let her disappointment show. He’d be gone all weekend, and she wouldn’t be able to see him. She missed him already. “Well, of course you have to do that.”

“I was planning to ask you to go with me,” he said in a low voice. 

Rose leaned away a little to look at him with wide eyes. “You want me to go to Glasgow with you? To meet your family?”

“Absolutely. Come with me, sweetheart. It’ll be a nice break from all of this.”

“Oh, Ian, I don’t know. I would hate to intrude…”

“It wouldn’t be an intrusion at all. Auntie Grace is going to love you, and Fergus will have a wonderful time telling you stories to humiliate me.” Rose laughed and Ian pretended to look chagrined, his eyes twinkling. “On second thought, this is a terrible idea.”

Rose giggled. “I know how to behave myself. Most of the time.”

Ian grinned. “Seriously, Rose. Come with me. We’ll leave on Friday and get back Sunday afternoon. Forty-eight hours in Scotland, away from cameras and journalists. It’ll be wonderful.”

It _sounded_ wonderful and was incredibly tempting. She’d have forty-eight continuous hours with Ian. That was hard to say no to.

“And you’re sure your aunt won’t mind an extra guest?”

“Not at all. She’s going to adore you, and stuff you full of traditional Scottish food.”

Rose cringed a bit. “Not haggis.”

Ian chuckled. “Not if you don’t want it. I’ll ring her tomorrow and let her know.” She considered him for another couple of moments, and he reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, tracing her cheek when he did. “This is my home, Rose. I’d like you to see where I come from.”

His eyes were tender and as blue as she’d ever seen them. His fingers slid down her jawline before he lowered his hand, and he wore the tiniest of smiles on his gorgeous face. She was helpless to resist when he looked at her that way.

“Of course I’ll go. I love birthday parties.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE'RE GOING TO GLASGOW!!!


	55. Chapter 55

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The authors would like to take a moment to wish a VERY HAPPY BIRTHDAY to Rose--Nebula!! She has been inspiration for us, a fantastic beta, a cheerleader, and we're just amazed by how lucky we are to have her. Happy Birthday, Rose--Nebula!! Your gift is at the bottom of the chapter :)

3 April 2012  
Week Thirty-Two

Ian slid his hand along her belly as they parted in the foyer with the usual admonishment to come get him when she was ready to go home, then went to the billiards room, feeling better than he’d felt in months. But he stopped just inside the door when he saw Mickey standing by the table, lining up a shot. 

"The fuck are you doing here?"

Mickey straightened and glared at Ian. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"It’s Tuesday. Pete and I always play on Tuesday."

"Yeah?” Mickey’s expression turned smug. “Well, he invited me."

"The fuck he did!"

"Actually, I did," Pete said, sauntering into the room with his hands in his pockets.

"Why the fuck would you do that?" Ian demanded, livid.

Pete walked over to the table and turned to lean against it, crossing his arms over his chest. "Because you two have _got_ to learn to get along. What you’re doing is unfair to Rose."

Mickey gestured forcefully at Ian. "You said you didn’t like this arsehole hanging around Rose all the time!"

Ian imagined that the look he was giving Pete was similar to the look Caesar gave Brutus. He didn’t know what to say. "You didn’t." 

Pete held up his hands in a placating gesture. "I did, but that was several months ago. Things have changed."

"What things?" Mickey demanded.

"Rose is happy. She could have very easily lost herself in depression and despair when she got stuck here, then again after Norway. But she’s thrived. Her mother says she’s never seen Rose like this. And we suspect that a big part of the reason for that is Ian."

He was mollified enough to give Mickey a smug look. 

"But he’s an arsehole!" the younger man burst out.

"Yes, he is," agreed Pete. "But not to Rose. And I don’t believe he ever would be."

The very idea made him recoil. "I could never. I save that side of myself for shitstains like you," Ian hurled at Mickey.

Pete turned to him. "You’re not blameless in this, you know."

"What the fuck did I do?"

"You’ve been nothing but an arse to Mickey, which doesn’t make sense, because he’s Rose’s best friend."

Ian took exception to that - he rather thought _he_ was Rose’s best friend - but he didn’t say anything.

"Of the three men in this room, I’m the one Rose cares about the least." Ian didn’t miss the note of pain in his voice. "We all care about her, and none of the three of us are going anywhere. A peace has to be reached. To that end," he circled the table to get his cue, "the three of us are going to play pool, and we’re all going to get along. Or so help me God, I’ll lock her in the mansion and forbid both of you from seeing her."

Ian’s hackles went up and he literally growled at Pete with his fists clenched by his side. "You wouldn’t fucking dare."

"She’s my daughter," he said simply. "There’s nothing I won’t do to protect her. I’m quite sure you understand that."

Pete gave him a pointed look and Ian didn’t flush, but he did back down. Slightly. He’d burn this place to the fucking ground before he let Rose be locked up here, away from him. 

"Now. Rack ‘em up."

Ian watched Mickey warily while he racked the balls, pulling down his own cue and considering braining the idiot with it. “You’re fucking it up,” he snapped. 

“I am not! I’m racking for nine-ball.”

“Who the fuck said we were going to play nine-ball? Pete and I play eight-ball on Tuesdays.”

“I think we can make an exception tonight, don’t you think, Ian?” Pete intervened, and Ian scowled. 

Ian and Mickey circled each other like sharks, sniping at every opportunity about every little thing while they shot through the four. Mickey missed his shot, stood back from the table and said baldly, “You’re not good enough for her.”

Ian scoffed while he bent over to line up. “Rose seems to think I’m good enough to be her fucking friend.” He shot, sank the five, then realized he was getting a look from both of the other men in the room for that. “What?”

“You’re more than friends,” Mickey accused. “You’re a couple. Everyone knows it.”

“We are not!”

“Ian,” Pete interrupted. “Everyone sees the two of you as a unit now. Ian-and-Rose are a package deal. The two of you may not see it that way, but the rest of the world does.”

That was news to him and he absolutely loved hearing it - even while he cringed to think how mortified Rose would be. 

“And you’re not worthy to wipe her boots,” Mickey shot. "I don't think you're good enough for her. She deserves better."

"I don't give a salted licorice fuck _what_ you think, dipshit. And you're right, she _does_ deserve better than me. Rose deserves nothing but the absolute best of everything. But I'm fucking staying anyway, and good luck trying to get rid of me."

“Alright then. What happens when you lose your temper at her, hmm?”

“What the fuck do you mean by that?” 

“I’ve known Rose her entire life and she’s a sweet girl, but she can drive you to drink sometimes, too. And _you_ …” Mickey scoffed, but didn’t elaborate. “So what then? When she’s pushed you to the brink. What are you going to do to her then?”

Ian glared at him. “Are you fucking implying that I would hurt her somehow? That I would hit her or fucking scream at her? That I would abuse her in _any_ way?”

Mickey straightened - rather bravely, Ian thought. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

His instinct was to throttle the little fuckwad, but that wouldn’t help prove his point at all. He had to remain calm. 

“Mickey,” Pete started, but Ian stopped him.

“A couple weeks ago, Rose told me about the shitstain boyfriend she had that beat her. Jimmy.”

“Jimmy Stone.”

“Yeah. And I promised her right then - I fucking _swore_ to her - that no one would ever put their hands on her again. That no one will ever hurt or abuse her. I won’t fucking allow it. And I meant that.”

“Not even you?” Mickey challenged. 

“ _Especially_ not me, you sniveling twat! Are you fucking kidding? Were you not listening to Pete? She has absolutely _nothing_ to fear from me! I could never --!” Ian dragged his hand down his face and counted to three. “Look, I know you haven’t been around much, haven’t seen us together, and I know you’ve got all the mental acuity of an inbred sheep with a brain injury, but there’s absolutely _nothing_ I won’t do to keep Rose Tyler safe and happy. She and Eleanor are fucking _precious_ to me. You got that, idiot? I will do _anything_ to keep either of them from being hurt - by _anyone_.”

“Ian,” Pete interrupted, but Ian protested.

“No! He needs to fucking know! He’s so goddamn concerned I’m going to lose my temper on Rose, but he doesn’t seem to get that I would slit my own fucking wrists before I hurt her - or _let_ her be hurt - in _any_ way!”

Mickey started to rebut, but Pete stopped him. “ _Both_ of you. Stop. Take a minute and think of what Rose would want here. She’s going to be so much happier when you two get along and there isn’t all this bad blood. Would she want you two to snipe at each other until there’s a winner? Or work it out like grown men? Really. What would Rose want?”

He dragged both hands through his hair, frustrated by Pete’s logic and the truth in what he was saying. Rose was his weakness and Pete knew it. Of course he’d do anything Rose wanted - and he knew Pete was right, Rose would want him and Mickey to get along. It had been one thing before Rose landed here. He’d been able to snipe as much as he wanted at the idiot. But now Rose was here, and he couldn’t keep putting her in the middle. 

Ian sighed. “Look. I don’t know what else I can fucking say. Yes, I’m a prick. But I’ve never intentionally been a prick to Rose, and I never will. In fact, I intend to do everything in my power to protect her and keep her safe for the rest of my fucking life.”

Mickey looked like he was considering this. “Is that so?”

“Yeah, that’s fucking so.”

“And you say you’re not a couple? Because that sounds like something a bloke would say about the woman he loves, honestly.”

Ian started to protest but stumbled, then heard a sound outside the door. Rose came in the room, her eyes darting back and forth between him, Pete, and Mickey. "What’s going on?"

Mickey answered before he could. "Nothing, babe."

Rose shook her head. "Nothing good ever happens when you and Ian are in a room together. Pete, I guess you’re having to referee?"

Ian crossed the room to her before Mickey could say anything else - like call her fucking ‘babe’ again. He reached down for her hand with both of his and brought it up to his lips, kissing it. "There's nothing to worry about, sweetheart. We’re fine. But you should be sitting down. Put your feet up."

"I'm fine," she dismissed him. "I’ve been sitting for the last hour with Mum.”

“Were your feet up?”

She gave him a withering look, then looked around him at Pete. “Are these two really alright?"

"Mickey's arse is sore from the beating he just took at billiards," Ian smirked.

Mickey snorted. "Dream on."

"I've got a tenner says I mop the floor with him, next rack."

"You're going down, old man!"

Pete gave Mickey a raised eyebrow. “‘ _Old man_ ’? He’s my age, you know.” 

Ian just gave Rose another little kiss to her hand and an audacious wink. She looked at him curiously, then he turned around. "You’re right, idiot, I am an old fucking man. Well spotted. But my age has given me the advantage of experience. So I may very well go down, but you can be assured I'm fucking _brilliant_ at it."

Mickey groaned and Pete covered his eyes with his hand, muttering, “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Ian.” For his part, Ian turned around to Rose, winking again, and beamed when he saw that she was bright red. He couldn’t hold back a chuckle or stop himself from hugging her close and kissing her hair. Didn’t really try. 

Rose sat down in one of Pete’s armchairs while Ian racked the balls for him and Mickey to play. Pete elected to sit out and joined Rose in sitting by the fireplace to watch, and Ian was pleased to see the two of them chatting comfortably. Ian and Mickey still talked an incredible amount of trash to each other while playing, but the tone of it was different now. There wasn’t any real malice to what they were saying, and Rose flushed frequently when Ian would wink at her. 

With Ian well in the lead and only four balls left on the table, Rose made a pained sound. Ian barely thought to prop his cue against the table before he was across the room, on his knees in front of her.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he asked, certain he already knew the answer, if the hand she had snaked between her lower back and the chair was any indication.

“Just a pain in my back.”

“How bad?” While he waited for her answer, he encouraged her to scoot forward in the chair a bit so he could rub the place that hurt her. 

She winced. “About a four and a half. Five.”

His brow furrowed. A five on the pain scale was nothing to sneer at, and he already suspected that she typically downplayed her pain to avoid worrying him. “We’re leaving.”

“But you didn’t finish your game, Ian.”

“Doesn’t matter. You need to be at home, sweetheart.”

“ _Ian_...”

“He’s right,” Mickey spoke up. “It’s more important to take care of you than to play a dumb game.”

“Besides,” Ian grinned, helping her to her feet. “He was getting his arse fucking handed to him, anyway. It’s better this way. Otherwise, he might have cried.”

Pete snorted a laugh, Mickey scoffed, ‘Yeah, right’, and Rose gave him an admonishing look with twinkling eyes, but he just grinned and kissed her forehead. “C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s get you home.”

On the way out of the billiards room, Rose hugged Mickey goodbye and then surprised everyone when she hugged Pete, too. Ian shook Pete’s hand. He felt Rose’s eyes on him when he offered his hand to Mickey and the other man took it. They shook briefly, giving each other a nod of silent understanding, then Ian put his arm around Rose and took her home to bed.

~*~O~*~

4 April 2012 

Ian had grown, over the past several months, to like this new Jackie... for the most part. It was clear by her speech and mannerisms that she’d lived on the estates for more than forty years, but as she had demonstrated multiple times, she could pull off a convincing ‘society woman’ when the need arose. More than that, she was much kinder. Softer, somehow. She _cared_ about the people around her, and loved her daughter to the ends of the earth and back. 

He could certainly relate to that. 

She had taken Rose upstairs after dinner to look at the nursery that she and Pete were setting up for Eleanor. Ian was curious about it and thought about tagging along, but decided instead to go to the lounge, pour a drink and wait for Pete, who had been called out of dinner for something to do with work. 

Pete strolled into the lounge not long after Ian got there, just as he was stoppering the bottle of scotch. Ian’s guard went up immediately when he saw the look on his best friend’s face. It went up farther when Pete asked without preamble, “Where’s Rose?”

“She’s with Jackie. Why?”

“I had intended to tell the two of you together…”

Ian paled. “Tell us what?”

Pete hedged. “Ian --”

“Fucking _what_ , Pete? What’s wrong?”

The other man sighed and scrubbed his face with his hands. “This is one of those things that’s going to sound bigger and worse than it is, Ian. I need you to remember that.”

“You’re scaring the shit out of me, Pete.”

“There was a… a power surge at Torchwood.”

“And? What the fuck’s that got to do with Rose?”

Pete took a deep breath. “You know how Rose got here, right? And how she was planning on getting back?”

“Dimension whatsits.”

“Hoppers, yeah. We could never even get them to power on, let alone get them working. But tonight, for no apparent reason, they all powered on for a minute.”

Ian felt all the blood draining from his face and he sat down hard in the chair behind him, fairly dropping his drink on the table. There was only one thought in his brain. 

“He’s coming for her. The Doctor. He’s coming.”

“No, Ian,” Pete insisted and sat down beside him. Ian didn’t even look, he was blankly staring at the bookshelf on the other side of the room.

He was coming. The Doctor was coming for Rose. And for Eleanor. He was going to take them away. They were going to be leaving. Leaving him.

“We don’t know what this means, exactly, but the walls to the universe remain closed. There wasn’t even a wobble. Last time, readings went off the charts. This is nothing like that.”

“Wouldn’t you try to get back to her?” Ian said in a dispirited voice. “I’d do anything if it were me. To get to Rose? Anything. Fucking _anything_. Destroying universes wouldn’t faze me.”

“You’re not listening,” Pete insisted. “There is absolutely no indication that there’s been any activity at the wall to the universe. This is almost certainly a previously unknown side effect of a solar flare or gamma ray burst or something.”

Ian finally looked at his best friend. “You think?”

“I wouldn’t lie to you, mate. Not about this. Not about Rose.”

“And what’s Rose going to say when she finds out she can go back?”

“She _can’t_ go back, Ian. The hoppers are non-functional. What’s more, _she’s_ the one that ordered the end of the project to repair them. I don’t think she has any intention of leaving this universe.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. She made her peace with being here a long time ago. And besides that,” Pete put his hand on Ian’s shoulder to get his attention, “she’s _happy_ here, Ian.”

He wanted to believe Pete. He really did. But the gnawing fear he felt wouldn’t go away. Over the last few months, since he and Rose had gotten closer and he’d discovered that she’d called off the project, he’d gotten comfortable. Complacent. Secure in the knowledge that she was _staying_. But now…

The mental image of Rose’s happy, hopeful face when Pete told her this news almost made Ian throw up his dinner all over Pete’s Persian rug. 

From the foyer, he heard Rose and Jackie coming down the stairs and without knowing why, he got to his feet. Pete stood beside him, and while Pete looked a little worried about telling Rose, Ian was goddamn _petrified_. He did his absolute best to pull himself together before the women came into the room so he wouldn’t give anything away, and thought he’d done a decent job. 

“What’s wrong?” Rose asked the second she laid eyes on him, and waddled across the room, reaching for him. She put one arm around his waist and touched his cheek with her other hand, looking up into his eyes with deep concern that only made him feel like fucking crying. Christ. What was he going to do without her? How would he live without this woman?

“Nothing, sweetheart,” he assured her, kissing her forehead and attempting to pretend that everything was normal. 

She shook her head. “Don’t give me that. What happened?”

He started to deny again that there was anything wrong, but Pete stepped in. “There was… something of an incident at Torchwood tonight.”

“What kind of ‘incident’? Is everyone okay?”

“Everybody’s fine. The hoppers powered up for a moment. We think it was a power surge of some type.”

Rose just kind of stared at Pete for a second, then shrugged and said, “Okay. But what’s bothering Ian?”

“I think he --”

“I was worried you’d be upset by that news,” Ian said, not untruthfully...even if he hadn’t told the _whole_ truth. 

She smiled up at him from within the circle of his arms. “Why would I be upset? It’s nothing to do with me. Just some random power surge.”

“Sweetheart --”

“Rose,” Jackie interrupted, and Ian was grateful. “Did I tell you I’ve been looking at having the mansion baby-proofed? Turns out there are companies who will come do it…”

Ian was gently led over to the couch and encouraged to sit in the corner so Rose could curl up next to him, the way she always did at her cottage or his house. Her hand went over his heart and his arm went around her, cradling her close, while his free hand went down to her belly so he could feel Eleanor’s occasional movements. As the evening wore on he settled down, soothed somewhat by Pete’s reassurance and even more soothed by Rose’s virtual non-reaction to the news. After comforting her for weeks last autumn, her acting like the power surge was no big deal led him to believe that maybe it _was_ no big deal. If Rose didn’t care, why should he? Her apathy was comforting. 

Around nine, Rose started to yawn and he gently encouraged her to call it a night. The two of them walked back across the garden hand in hand, like always, and got ready to go to sleep. Ian crawled into bed behind her, curling against her, and almost as soon as the lights went out, doubts and fears began to assail him again. What if Pete was wrong? What if Rose was just a really good actor? What if the Doctor was on his way to the mansion _right now_? He pulled her closer, gripping her tighter, willing her to never leave him. 

“Ian?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“You know there’s nothing to this thing about the hoppers, right? I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about me being upset.”

“It’s just…” He sighed, unable to articulate what he was thinking, afraid to speak it aloud. “I don’t know, Rose.”

“ _I_ know. We’re going to Glasgow tomorrow afternoon and you’re going to introduce me to your family. We’re going sightseeing on Saturday and having a birthday party that evening… I’m so excited I can’t stand myself, and I’m a nervous wreck.”

“Why are you nervous?”

“I just am. But I’m focusing on the fact that you and I are going away for the weekend and we’re going to have a wonderful time together. Yeah? I mean, I haven’t traveled in a while now, we may not be able to travel again for a while longer, and sometimes I miss it.”

Ian kissed her temple. “As soon as Eleanor is old enough, I’ll take you anywhere you want to go. We’ll travel the world, if you want.”

“Yeah,” she said, and he could hear her smile. “I’d like that. But for now, can we just plan on going to Glasgow and having a good time? And forget about everything else?”

He had yet to find anything that he could deny her, and this moment was no exception. “Of course, sweetheart. Go to sleep. Tomorrow night, we’ll sleep in Scotland.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 22 April, 1985
> 
> Graham Fitzgerald strode confidently to the door of the Electric Banana, smiling a little at the sound of his cousin playing guitar and singing from the stage inside. He showed his ID to the spiky-haired woman at the table, paid her the extravagant $2 cover charge, and accepted the stamp of a banana on his hand, marking him of age. 
> 
> “You sure you’re in the right place, mate?” she asked, looking him up and down, smirking. 
> 
> Graham checked his appearance again - knowing it was perfect, it always was when he was going out on the town. He wore loafers, denims and a pale green t-shirt under a white sportcoat. He was looking damn fit, if he did say so himself. 
> 
> “I’m sure. My cousin is Ian Docherty. Came to see him.”
> 
> The spiky-haired woman laughed. “ _You’re_ Ian’s cousin?”
> 
> He was used to this, just nodded and smiled. “That I am.”
> 
> “I can’t imagine that…”
> 
> “Oh, there’s a lot about my cousin I dare say you’d never imagine. But if you’ll excuse me…”
> 
> He made his way inside the club, stopping just inside the doors to take in everything. Ian was on stage with his favorite black guitar that looked like someone who had no idea what a stratocaster was meant to look like had tried to design a copycat. Anytime Fergus called it ugly, Ian just said it had character. Its lack of aesthetic pleasingness didn’t slow Ian down from making it wail, though. 
> 
> Graham went to the bar and ordered a lager. It tasted like bullpiss, but nobody else seemed to mind. He scoped the female situation, noting that nearly all female eyes were on his cousin. He smirked a little, turning around to face the stage, and looked at the woman next to him. Her blonde hair was crimped and teased to astonishing heights, and her outfit looked exactly like something he’d seen on MTV, with several skinny belts around her waist and an absurd amount of rubber bracelets. Lace, fingerless gloves revealed red-painted nails, and Graham thought she was rather cute, despite all the makeup she had smeared on. 
> 
> “I heard the guitar player’s a twat,” he said, leaning down to speak to her. “Complete tosser.”
> 
> “You take that back!” she demanded, scandalized. “Ian Docherty is bloody amazing!”
> 
> “What’s so amazing about him?”
> 
> The girl’s eyes went soft and she looked back at the stage. “He sings like his heart is on fire. I’d love to be the girl he’s singing to.”
> 
> Graham scoffed. To his knowledge, Ian had _never_ had his heart set on fire by any bird, but he had to admit there was something compelling about him when he performed. He _commanded_ the stage, and Graham wouldn’t have been a bit surprised to see his cousin become a big rockstar. Ian wanted to be a doctor, though, he always had, and there was no doubt in Graham’s mind that Ian would be the best damn doctor in the country. 
> 
> “They named the band after me, you know.”
> 
> She gave him a scathing look, and he cringed inwardly. Giving up on the Madonna lookalike, Graham took his shitty lager and started meandering towards the backstage area, figuring Ian would be finishing up the set soon. He chatted up a handful of women on the way, even throwing out the KnickerBurner twice, but it did him no good. 
> 
> (Continued in first comment)


	56. Chapter 56

6 April 2012

Ian held Rose’s hand down the stairs from the zeppelin when they landed in Glasgow, even though she was wearing stylish (but flat) boots today with her jeans and jumper. She hadn’t been enthusiastic about the idea of flying in a zeppelin, in fact she’d been downright scared, which he’d thought weird. Zeppelins were the safest form of travel, by far. So she’d told him a horror story about a zeppelin called the Hindenburg in her universe. He’d been amazed and asked what they’d used for air travel, and she’d told him about ‘airplanes’. Just like many of her other stories, he found the concept far-fetched but didn’t think she was lying. 

He was soothed by the fact that he didn’t detect any longing or sadness when she talked about her old universe lately, which was a massive relief - especially given what had happened with the hoppers the night before. Once again, he did his best to put that out of his mind, telling himself there was nothing to worry about. There were other things on his mind at the moment anyway, like the fact that he was about to introduce the most beautiful woman he’d ever known to his cousin, the ladies’ man. His insides twisted. Maybe this was a terrible idea.

_No._ It was fine. They were here to relax, he had her to himself for an entire weekend, it was going to be a wonderful, and he absolutely couldn’t wait. Everything was fine. 

She didn’t argue with him when he shouldered their large duffel as it came around in baggage claim, and he grinned at her when he took her hand again and started towards the lobby. 

Ian groaned when they got there. He would have spotted Fergus a mile away, but the dipshit was standing in the lobby with a sheet of A4 he’d made into a sign that read, ‘Ian the Bampot’. 

“Is that him?” Rose asked, indicating the grinning man. 

Ian sighed. “Yes, that’s him. He’s fucking showing off for you.”

She snorted a little and he cut his eyes at her. Pursing her lips, she tried to straighten her face, but didn’t do very well. He fought the urge to smile, himself.

“This was a terrible fucking idea,” he muttered.

“I’ll behave, Ian. Honest.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about.” Squeezing her hand, he reminded her, “Remember, everything Fergus says about me is a fucking lie.”

“Ian!” Fergus called, and despite his cousin’s idiotic sign, Ian grinned. The two men embraced when they got close enough, then Ian stepped back. 

“Good to see you, Fergus.”

“Good to see you, too. What’s that on your face?”

“It’s a beard, dipshit.”

Fergus grinned, obviously pleased at having gotten a rise out of him right away. “Doesn’t look like one. Looks like you glued some dirty cotton to your chin.” Then, before Ian could retort, he nodded at Rose with his eyes twinkling. “Who is this?”

Ian put his arm around Rose, beaming with pride. “This is Rose Tyler.”

Fergus quirked a brow and the corner of his lip at Ian. "This is the bird you said you don't have?"

Ian mouthed, _I swear to fucking God I'll kill you,_ then smiled as convincingly as he could at Rose when she looked up at him. Fergus just snorted and took Rose's hand.

“I’ve been hoping to meet you. Ian is terribly selfish and has kept you all to himself. I can see why, but I’m glad he’s sharing now.” 

He kissed her hand and Ian gasped in horror when his cousin unleashed the KnickerBurner at Rose.

She spun around at once, her hand flying out of Fergus’ and coming to rest on his chest, concern all over her face. “Are you alright?”

He grimaced. “I’m fine, sweetheart.”

“Are you sure?”

“I can already tell that Ian doesn’t deserve you,” Fergus said, drawing attention back to himself.

Ian scowled at Fergus, but couldn’t really argue that point. 

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” Rose said with a smile, her cheeks pink. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Fergus raised his eyebrows. “Is that so?” He looked over at Ian. “What have you been filling this lass’ head with?”

“Nothing but the fucking truth.”

His cousin considered him for a second, then snorted and turned to Rose. "She's a bonnie wee hen. Tell me, Birdie, what witch cursed you to be linked to my dung heap of a cousin?"

“Oh, shut the hell up, Fergus. Stop trying to sound more fucking Scottish than you are.”

“I’m entirely Scottish, thank you, which is not something you can say, eh, ye fecking sassenach?” Ian made a rude Italian gesture and Fergus chuckled, then turned to Rose. “And it was a genuine question. Did an evil witch lay a curse on you, lass, made you take up with this grumpy sod?”

Rose’s eyes twinkled and she looked like she was barely holding back a giggle. He loved seeing her that way. Her amusement and happiness made Fergus’ bullshit worth it. 

“If a witch cursed me, I don’t know about it.”

“Ah, then he must have kidnapped you. Blink twice if you need me to rescue you heroically from his nefarious clutches.”

She finally burst into giggles while Ian scowled, playing his part dutifully. “You’re a twat, Fergus.”

Fergus just grinned, obviously pleased with himself. “So you’ve been telling me for nigh on forty years.”

“Don’t worry, Fergus,” Rose said, settling into a smile. “Ian didn’t have to kidnap me, I wanted to come with him. I’m here of my own free will.”

“Good. Hard to believe, but good. And you can call me Graham. S’my real name. Only this numpty calls me Fergus.” Fergus indicated Ian as the numpty in question, then bent closer to Rose and spoke in a conspiratorial stage whisper. “He thinks it winds me up. It doesn’t, but he has to compensate somehow for me being so much better looking than he is.”

Rose bit her lip to keep from laughing and Ian muttered some choice expletives about his bloody cousin.

“I’ll do my best to remember, but every time Ian’s talked about you, he’s referred to you as ‘Fergus’. I’m likely to forget.”

“That’s quite alright. Might have known he’d do that. But enough chin-wagging,” Fergus declared. “Shall we?” He turned and offered his elbow to Rose, who cast a questioning look at Ian. Before he could speak, Fergus said, “Oh, don’t worry about that arse. He’ll sulk, but a good pout won’t hurt him.”

Rose turned to look at Ian again, uncertain. He considered forbidding it and taking her hand, showing fucking Fergus and everyone else who she fucking belonged with. But he decided to be the bigger man and gave Rose a little smile and nod. She slipped her hand into Fergus’ elbow.

His fucking cousin grinned at him over Rose’s head, smug, and Ian glared daggers at him. Then they all started towards the car park. 

“Be fucking careful, Fergus,” Ian snapped when Fergus started walking faster than he was comfortable with. “She’s fucking pregnant, you can’t just fucking drag her like that.”

Fergus turned around and raised a brow at him. “You talk like that in front of your bird?”

He didn’t acknowledge Rose being referred to as ‘his bird’. “Just slow the fuck down, alright?”

“You’re just in time, Birdie,” Fergus said, not acknowledging Ian directly but slowing down a bit. “It’s Mam’s birthday.”

Ian spoke up from Rose’s other side, struggling with the jealous impulse to pull her away from his flirty cousin. “Why do you think we’re here, ye great horse shite? And it’s my birthday, too, you know.”

Fergus ignored him and continued speaking to Rose. “Mam makes her own cake every year. You’ve never had anything as delicious as Mam’s cooking.”

Ian perked up. “Did she make a marmalade cake?”

His cousin finally acknowledged him. “She’s going to, since it’s your favorite. We’re not eating the birthday dinner until tomorrow night, so she’ll bake it tomorrow.”

He snorted. “She knows if she bakes it early, you’ll fecking get into it.”

“Oi!” Fergus protested, looking over Rose’s head to give Ian a scowl. “You were just as guilty of filching food as I was!”

“Aye, but I was better at it,” Ian gloated. “Faster. Never got fucking caught. You were constantly in the fucking corner, with your big slow arse.”

Fergus opened his mouth to fire back, but Rose spoke, breaking up the argument diplomatically. “It sounds lovely. I’ve never had marmalade cake before.”

“You’re in for a treat,” Ian enthused. “It’s always delicious, but Auntie’s is the fucking best in Scotland.”

“It’s true, Birdie. My Mam is a fine chef.”

“That must be where Ian gets it.” He puffed up a little, and Rose turned to give him a smile. He returned it, pleased with her compliment.

“Here we are,” Fergus said when they got to a late-model, sporty sedan Ian had never seen before. 

“New car?” Ian asked.

“Thought I’d treat myself.”

“Looks nice. Brand new?”

“Drove it off the lot with six miles on it,” Fergus said, obviously proud.

“Trust you to pick fucking blue,” Ian chortled. 

“Oi! What’s wrong with blue?”

“Nothing, it’s just you _always_ pick blue. If it’s not blue, you don’t fucking want it.”

“That’s not true!”

Ian was on a roll. “Probably why you never married. You couldn’t have Smurfette and fucking Mystique is too hot for you. That chick with the tail from Avatar is way out of your league, too. So you stayed single.”

Fergus started to retort and Rose went to the rear door, chuckling. Instantly in accord, both Ian and Fergus said ‘no’, Ian stepping closer to her to stop her and Fergus putting his hand on the door. 

“It’s only right, Ian,” she huffed. “I’m the guest.”

“Which means you should sit in the front,” Fergus reasoned.

She scowled, and Ian took a small step until he was close enough to her to speak in a low voice. He laid his hand on her belly, stroking it gently. “Sweetheart, getting in and out of cars is tricky for you, and the backseat is smaller than the front seat. There’s not going to be much room back there. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

Her eyes softened a little. “I’ll be fine.”

“Please, sweetheart?” he asked softly. “For me?” He could see the moment she surrendered. 

“Oh, alright,” she agreed with a sigh. Ian smiled at her, planting an impulsive kiss on her forehead, then reached around to open the door to the passenger seat for her. He took her hand and helped her into the car. As he’d expected, it was a bit difficult, but he didn’t say anything. Once he closed the door, he looked across the roof of the car.

“Please drive fucking carefully, Fergus.”

Fergus was serious for a change when he nodded. “I will.”

Ian got into the back seat and Fergus took off towards Auntie’s.

~*~O~*~

Rose was doing her best to listen to Ian tell Fergus about buying the SUV, only for Fergus to playfully harass him about it (among other things). But every mile they drove towards Ian’s Auntie’s house saw Rose growing more and more anxious. She longed to hold Ian’s hand the way she would if he was driving, but couldn’t comfortably do so with him sitting directly behind her, and she sorely missed the comfort. Listening to him and Fergus wind each other up was entertaining, though.

She could completely understand why Ian had called Fergus a ‘ladies’ man’. He was quite tall, taller than Ian, broad-shouldered and fit, and more than a little good-looking. He had a jaw that Keisha would have said you could grate cheese on, his muted ginger hair had just a touch of curl to it, his blue eyes danced with humor and there was something magnetic about his smile, almost magical. In another universe, he would have been just Rose’s type. He was certainly what the Doctor would have called a “pretty boy” (probably while snarking about his hair).

But now, while she could appreciate how handsome he was, she only had eyes for Ian. Her heart belonged to the gorgeous, silver-haired bloke in the backseat currently calling his laughing cousin a filthy name.

After what seemed like forever and a split second at the same time, Fergus was pulling into the driveway of a large country house. It looked to be old but was in good repair, unlike many houses its age. The late afternoon sun shone on the front of the house, and Rose thought it really quite charming. 

When Fergus stopped the car, she didn’t have a chance to open the door before Ian was doing it for her, reaching in to help her out. She smiled brightly at him, happy to see his face again after twenty minutes of not being able to. He smiled back at her and she started to climb out of the car. Ian had been right, it was a bit more difficult since she’d gotten spoiled to the SUV, but she didn’t dare admit that. The concern in his eyes told her she didn’t have to. 

He held her hand as they walked, his fingers laced with hers, and he must have felt her trembling because he leaned a little closer to her to whisper, “Relax, sweetheart. She’s going to love you, and I’ve got a tenner says you’ll love her, too.”

Rose turned and grinned at him. “You’d bet on something like that?”

“No, but it made you smile.”

She laughed, which she suspected was his desired result, and he squeezed her hand with a smile.

Fergus had gone a little ways ahead and opened the door, going right in. “Mam! I picked up some straggler and his bonnie lass at the airport! Had to bring them home. Looked like they needed to be fed.”

Ian muttered as they climbed the steps to the house and it was her turn to squeeze his hand, giggling a little. “He called me a bonnie lass.”

“You are. Bonniest lass I’ve ever seen.”

She flushed a little, and Ian let go of her hand to open the door that Fergus had let close. He held it open for her and she hesitated, feeling uncomfortable walking into a strange situation, but with an encouraging nod from Ian she went inside. 

The house and its furnishings exuded comfort and welcome and Rose felt more at ease immediately. Pictures covered nearly every surface, and she was eager to find out which were of Ian. She hoped someone would show her. 

She was startled a bit when Ian let the door slam shut and called out, “Auntie! I’m home!” Grinning and obviously pleased, Ian put his hand on her back and escorted her into the lounge a little ways, throwing their heavy duffel into one of the chairs carelessly, like he’d done it a million times. 

A woman that Rose assumed to be Auntie Grace rounded the corner, wiping her hands on a towel. She was about Rose’s height, her hair silver and artfully styled. A colorful apron was tied over a blouse and slacks, and there was flour all over it. Her shoulders relaxed and she smiled when she spotted them. “Ian.”

“Hello, Auntie,” Ian said, beaming, and went to hug the older woman. 

“You haven’t shaved. Are you working too hard?”

“No, Auntie, I’m not working too hard. Just decided to try a beard out, see if I like it. And I’m sorry I’ve been away so long, I’ve been a bit busy. But I brought someone to meet you.” 

He turned and gestured at Rose who swallowed hard, suddenly very anxious again. “Hello, Mrs. Fitzgerald. It’s very nice to meet you.”

Auntie Grace waved her hand as if shooing a fly. “None of that, now, lass. You’re with my Ian, so I’m Auntie Grace to you.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Ian stepped over to Rose and put his arm around her waist, and she felt better instantly. “This is Rose Tyler, Auntie.”

“Pete’s girl, correct?”

“He’s my father, yes, ma’am,” she confirmed, interrupting Ian who gave her a look. 

“I’ve heard a bit about you, lass. I know your father of old, of course. He likes clapshot and cherry cake. Not together, mind, one before the other.”

Rose had no clue what clapshot was and only a guess what cherry cake was, but nodded and smiled anyway. 

Auntie Grace nodded down at Rose’s belly. “Looks as if Pete is about to become a grandfather.”

Rose put her hand on her belly at once, and Ian squeezed her with the arm around her waist, using his free hand to stroke her bump. She looked up at him, unsure what to say, and he spoke proudly. 

“Yes, a baby girl. We --” He cut himself off. Rose had her suspicions (and hopes!) about what he’d almost said, but Ian recovered. “The baby’s name is Eleanor. She’s due next month.”

“Eleanor. That’s a lovely name,” Auntie Grace said, then smiled at Rose. “I’m sure you must be tired after traveling all day. Come, sit for a while.”

As Ian had told her, Auntie Grace had an air about her that you didn’t say no to. So Rose smiled and followed the gentle pressure of his hand on her back to the couch while Auntie returned briefly to the kitchen to remove her apron. Once she sat, he sat beside her, and she was surprised when he put his arm around her, the way he always did. She’d thought at best he may hold her hand when no one was looking, not openly display such affection in front of his family. He smirked down at her with a wink and her heart fluttered. 

Auntie settled into an armchair and crossed her ankles. Unlike most of the ladies Rose had run into in society, it seemed like a natural action for her.

“You two met through Pete, I assume?”

“Yes, ma’am. When Jackie came back, they had a vow renewal ceremony. I met Rose there.”

“And how old are you, Rose?”

She squirmed a bit uncomfortably, and Ian stroked her arm soothingly. “I’m twenty-four. I’ll be twenty-five at the end of the month.”

“Hmm,” Auntie said, but somehow it wasn’t disapproving. “Do you work?”

“Not while I’m pregnant. But I did some volunteer work, teaching art to children. Wednesday was my last day.”

“Rose is an amazing painter, Auntie.”

“Is she now?”

“Yep. When she told me she liked to paint, I was expecting some amateurish… rubbish. Like… you know - but Rose is truly talented.”

She flushed under the praise but looked up at him, biting her lip. He gazed down at her, smiling proudly. She wanted to kiss him until neither of them could breathe. 

“So. Rose,” Auntie said, breaking into her thoughts. “Ian tells me you don’t like haggis.”

“No, ma’am, I’ve never had any that I’ve liked.”

“Ah, Birdie. That’s almost blasphemy, that is,” Fergus spoke up from the doorway, where he leaned against the jamb with a glass of lemonade.

“Oi!” Ian snapped. “You’ve got a guest here, a _pregnant_ guest, and you get yourself a drink without offering her one? I know you weren’t raised in a barn, so why are you acting like a horse’s arse?”

“What’s wrong with your legs?” Fergus snapped back. “Or your hands or arms or - any part of you really. ‘Cept your brain. We know that’s addled.”

“See you? See ma fist?”

Rose pursed her lips trying not to laugh. 

“Boys!” Auntie Grace said, her voice just a little raised, and both men went silent at once. “You both know better. Graham, you have better manners than that. I taught you myself. Ian,” she pointed a finger at him and Rose felt him squirm. “You know there’s no swearing in my house, young man.”

“Yes, Mam.”  
“Yes, Auntie.”

Auntie Grace looked satisfied. “Good. Now who’s going to fix Rose something to drink?”

“I’ll do it,” Ian said, jostling Rose a little when he got up, dropping an absent kiss to her hair as he left. 

“No, I’ve got it. You sit with your bird,” Fergus said.

Both men’s voices faded a bit as they got farther away. “You’ll just muck it up. Besides, I know what she likes.”

“Clearly her taste is questionable, since she’s here with you.”

“Oi!”

Rose couldn’t help it, she snorted a laugh. She bit it back quickly, though.

“S’alright, Rose, you can laugh. Heaven knows I’ve been entertained by the two of them for the last thirty-some-odd years, since Ian came to live with us. We were all sad and shocked, of course, but Graham was secretly delighted. He’d wanted a brother, see, and we’d tried and tried to give him one. But the good Lord had other plans. We’d just settled into the idea of Graham being our only child when Ian came. And the two of them were thick as thieves already, being cousins. Had been since the youngest age.” 

“Have they always been like this? Winding each other up?”

“Oh, yes, from the very beginning. They snipe and tease and drive me spare, but there’s a great deal of love there. They’re brothers, even if they don’t share a name. As close as any brothers have ever been.”

Rose pondered on that for a moment, missing Auntie Grace’s look.

~*~O~*~

Ian waited until he was absolutely sure that Auntie and Rose wouldn’t hear them, then he hauled off and punched Fergus in the arm.

“Ow! What the bleedin’ hell was that for?”

“The KnickerBurner, Fergus? You gave her the goddamn _KnickerBurner_?”

“It was a test! It’s not everyday you meet your future sister-in-law for the first time, you know. I had to make sure she was worthy to be my cousin’s bird.” Fergus grabbed a handful of nuts from the open can on the counter and popped some in his mouth, speaking while he chewed. “She passed, by the way.”

“I ought to fucking punch you again.”

Fergus smirked. “Wouldn’t hurt. Never does. All these years, you still hit like a wee girl.”

“Fuck off.”

“Don’t think I will, ta.” He eyed Ian for a minute, one eyebrow raised, then threw a couple more nuts in his mouth. “Got anything you want to confess to your favorite cousin?”

Ian snorted, shaking his head and going to the cabinet for a pair of drinking glasses. “There’s nothing that needs confessing.”

“You and Rose look… close.”

“We are close. Close _friends_.”

“Oh, come off it, Ian. I’m not blind.”

“Wanked enough ye ought to be.”

Fergus ignored him. “She’s who you were texting that night in the pub, isn’t she? She’s the one made you smile like you did.”

It was Ian’s turn to ignore his cousin as he opened the refrigerator and stuck his head in. “Is there no more lemonade?”

“You’re in love with her.”

“Oh, here it is. Why the fuck did you stick it behind the milk?”

“You love her, don’t you?” Fergus reasserted, and Ian clenched his jaw. He’d known this would happen if he brought her home, he was ready for it, but it still grated. He took a steadying breath, stood up and turned to face his cousin. 

“Rose and I are very close. We’re good friends. In some ways, she’s the best friend I’ve ever had.”

“Oi! What about me?”

Ian gave him a look, and Fergus grinned. “But it’s just that - friends. We’re completely platonic.”

“Yer fulla shite, mate,” Fergus scoffed. “D’you honestly expect me to believe that tripe?”

“It’s true,” Ian said through clenched teeth. “It doesn’t make a fuck if you believe it or not. It’ll still be the truth.”

Fergus snorted. “If you say so.”

“Aye, I say so. I also say this - if you take this to Rose, if you pester her about some imaginary fucking romance you see, if you fucking upset her even a little bit with some bullshit when she’s damn near eight months pregnant, I’m going to unleash a fucking fury on you like you’ve never known. And if you give her the KnickerBurner again, I’ll fucking kill you. Hand to God.”

“You’ll shit and fall back in it, you will,” Fergus laughed. “You won’t do anything.” 

Ian shrugged. “Maybe not.” The grin that he leveled at Fergus was truly evil. “But I’ll sure as shit tell Auntie what you’re up to.”

“You fecking wouldn’t,” Fergus said, wide-eyed, his smirk gone.

“Try me.”

“Forty-nine years old and still a wee clipe.”

“I’ll be forty-six next week, you big floppy wanker. And I don’t give a fuck what you call me. Give me all the shit you like, take the piss all you want. Just keep Rose out of it.”

Fergus raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, mate. Have it your way.” 

Ian nodded to himself, satisfied. But he missed the mischievous twinkle in his cousin’s eye while he was pouring lemonade for himself and Rose.


	57. Chapter 57

6 April 2012 (cont.)

The first time Rose yawned, Ian announced that they were tired and going to bed. Rose tried to argue lightly with him, but Auntie helped out by saying she was tired, too, and Fergus claimed he needed to get to his own house and feed his dog before the wee beastie went feral. Ian rolled his eyes, but appreciated his discretion just the same and told his cousin he’d see him tomorrow morning, bright and early, to take Rose into Glasgow for some sightseeing. 

“I’ve made up Graham’s old room for you, dear,” Auntie said to Rose after Fergus left. “It’s probably a wee bit masculine for your taste, but it’s comfortable.”

Ian made to speak, not sure what he was going to say. He’d assumed that Rose would stay with him, but probably should have expected that Auntie would make up a room for her. He _wanted_ her to stay with him, but he had no idea how Rose would feel on the topic.

He looked at her to see that she was wearing the same expression he imagined he was: her eyes wide, her mouth open and working soundlessly. He gathered from that look that she’d had the same ideas, and warmth blossomed in his chest at the thought. But he had no clue what to say, and it looked like Rose didn’t, either.

“Would you rather stay with Ian?” Auntie asked Rose gently, proving herself, once again, to be the perceptive woman Ian had always known her to be. Auntie _always_ seemed to know.

“Yes, please, if that’s alright,” Rose answered in a low voice, flushing. 

“Of course it’s alright.” She patted Rose’s cheek. “You sleep well. Rest is terribly important for you right now.”

“Yes, Auntie Grace.”

Auntie turned to him and patted his cheek. He expected some wish that he’d have a good night or sleep well. Instead, his aunt looked up at him and said, “You shave in the morning.”

Rose snorted beside him, but he couldn’t cut her a dirty look just then. “I can’t. I didn’t bring my shaving kit.”

“Your face looks dirty. Almost moldy. You look better clean shaven.”

Another noise came from Rose’s general direction, and he knew without looking that she was biting her lip to keep the laughter in.

“I’ll think about it, Auntie.”

She patted his cheek again, giving him a meaningful look, then pushed his shoulder a bit. “Go. Get on with you. Your lass needs to sleep.”

Ian reached for Rose’s hand and she grasped it, entwining their fingers. “Goodnight, Auntie.”

“Goodnight, Auntie,” Rose echoed, then Ian tugged her towards the stairs and up towards the bedroom. When they got to the landing, he stopped and looked over at her before they went up the last ten steps. 

“Are you alright? Do you need a minute?”

“I’m fine,” she assured him, even if she sounded a little out of breath. He looked at her skeptically, but she smiled and they continued. 

He came to a stop outside his old bedroom and opened the door, feeling the same wave of nostalgia he always got when he came home. It blended with a swelling of the excitement he’d been experiencing all day, that Rose was _here_ with him. Ian smiled and turned on the lamps sitting around the room.

“This is your room?” Rose asked, stepping inside, taking a look around.

“Yep,” he said, trying to see things through her eyes.

She stepped over to the mirror and pulled a photo out of where it was sticking in the frame. “When was this?”

He knew exactly what picture she had, but he stepped over close to her, anyway, putting his hand on the small of her back. “That’s me and Fergus, the day we graduated from Uni.”

“You look so handsome here,” she marvelled, and he felt himself puff with pride. Nevertheless, he saw an opportunity to tease her and couldn’t miss it. 

“Oi! Are you saying I’m not handsome now?”

She looked up at him, her tongue between her teeth but flushing a little. He was satisfied with that. He kissed her temple, pleased with the entire situation. 

“I’m going to go down to the loo and put on my pyjamas,” he told her. “You can change in here while I’m gone.”

“Where is the loo? I really need to use it, actually. Might as well change while I’m there.”

“Turn right out the door, it’s the second door on the left.”

“Thanks.” She flushed a little, going to the bag he’d set on the bed to get out her pyjamas, then left the room. 

Ian pulled his own pyjama bottoms and t-shirt on hurriedly, in case she came back sooner than he expected. She did not, so he opened the door to the hall for her. She still hadn’t come after a few minutes and he started pacing the room while he waited. He had just made up his mind to go check on her when he heard the loo door open. Trying to affect a casual air and _not_ give away that he’d been a ball of anxiety while she was out of his sight, he made himself look busy with the duffel bag. 

When she came back in, though, her eyes were red and splotchy. He was across the room in an instant, one hand on her shoulder and the other cupping her cheek.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong? What happened?”

Rose shook her head a little and pulled away from him, headed for the bed. Ian caught her hand in a loose but firm hold and she stopped, but still didn’t look at him. 

“Are you alright?” he asked quietly. She nodded, not looking at him, sniffing a little. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s stupid,” she said, shaking her head again and looking away for a second, sniffing hard and then turning to him with her brittle, fake smile. “I’m fine. Really.”

“Bullshit.” The word was harsh, but his gentle gaze and even gentler tone softened it. “You were fine before you went to the loo. Now you’re not. What happened?”

Her lip wobbled and her eyes welled with tears again. Ian cupped her cheek, stroking his thumb along her cheekbone, and adjusted his other hand so that their fingers were interlaced. “Tell me sweetheart. Maybe I can help.”

“I have a stretch mark,” she nearly whispered, ducking her head and pulling her hand away from his to cover her face while she cried. 

Ian could have laughed with relief, but didn’t dare. This was obviously a big deal to her, and he needed to treat it as such. 

“Oh, Rose. Don’t cry, sweetheart. Stretch marks are normal,” he said in the softest, most reassuring voice he could, stroking his hand along her belly. “Most women get them. They’re nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I’ll never wear a bikini again,” she cried, and Ian had to forcefully push away the mental image of Rose in a little red bikini. 

“It doesn’t matter what you wear. You’re fucking gorgeous in everything.”

Rose cried harder and he sighed a little, stung by the knowledge that there was nothing he could say to soothe her. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, and smiled into her hair when her arms went around his chest. He let his hand smooth up and down her back, comforting her as best he could. When her cries had died down to snuffles, he murmured in her ear, “Do you want me to rub your back tonight?” She gave a little nod and he smiled. “Go get on the bed, sweetheart. I’ll be there in a second.”

She did as instructed, getting into the same side of his old bed that she usually slept on at the cottage. Ian went around the room, dousing the lights before he went to the bed and turned off the one remaining lamp on the nightstand. That done, he scooted over to where Rose lay and started rubbing her back, massaging the muscles that were strained from carrying a baby. Rose groaned in relief and his body took notice.

“What do you think of Auntie?” he asked, doing his best to ignore his cock.

“She’s sweet,” Rose answered. “I like her. She obviously loves her two boys very much.”

“Aye, that she does.” Rose giggled a little and while he was glad to hear it, he was confused. “What?”

“You,” she laughed. “Your accent has been thicker from the moment Fergus met us in the airport.”

Ian could feel himself flush. “I’m sorry. I’ll tone it back.”

Rose rolled over a bit so she was mostly on her back. Ian automatically laid his hand on her belly. 

“Don’t you dare. I love it.”

“You do?” he asked with a raised eyebrow - not that she could see it.

“I do,” she confirmed. “I never thought I liked a Scottish accent until I heard yours.”

“I’m the exception, then?”

“Nearly always.”

“What about Fergus?”

“What about him?”

“What’d you think of him?”

Rose giggled. “He’s funny. You two could be a comedy act, the way you wind each other up.”

“Yeah,” he acknowledged, rubbing a circle on her belly. 

“I’m forced to disagree with your aunt, though.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I rather like the scruff.” He could practically _hear_ her tongue reaching up to touch her teeth. To his great surprise, she found his cheek in the dark and caressed it for just a moment, then pulled her hand back. “You should consider keeping it.”

There was no way in hell he’d be getting rid of it now that he knew she liked it. He may shave it off for work functions, but he’d sure as shit grow it back. 

Speaking of...

“Hey, sweetheart?”

“Yeah?” 

“I have this work thing next Saturday. It’s the Women’s Hospital’s annual fundraiser and awards dinner. Quite a bit like the Vitex Gala, actually.”

“Next Saturday is your birthday,” she observed.

“I know. But I’m on the fucking Board of Directors, so I need to be there.”

“I didn’t know you were on the Board of Directors.” She sounded impressed, and he was quite pleased.

“I am. Have been for several years now.”

She was quiet for a minute. “You want me to ask Pete about making a donation?”

He chuckled. “No, he’s already a donor. I want you to go with me.”

“You what?”

“I go stag every fucking year. It’d be nice to have a date.”

He expected a reaction to the word ‘date’, but didn’t get one. Instead, in an admonishing tone, she said, "Ian, I couldn't possibly."

"Why not?"

"Look at me!" She cried, exasperated.

"Well it’s dark at the moment, so I can’t.” She swatted him and he grinned. “But I know as well as I know my name that you look amazing."

"Amazingly huge! Small objects are going into orbit around me."

Ian chuckled and rubbed large circles on her belly. "Hush. You're absolutely fucking gorgeous. I'll be proud to have you on my sorry arm. Will you go?” 

She was quiet for a minute and Ian was sure that she could hear the pounding of his heart. Had he asked for too much? Had he pushed her too hard? What if -- 

“Are you sure you want _me_ to go with you?” she asked in a voice so low it was almost a whisper. 

“Of course I want you, sweetheart.”

“I just mean… I’m pregnant. I’m bound to slow you down, keep you from doing things you want to do.”

He knew damn well that she was talking about more than just the fundraiser. She was speaking about his life. And to him, that concern was just as silly as the one about the stretch mark. His life was sweeter with Rose. He wanted her in it forever.

“What I want to do is spend time with you, sweetheart. That’s all. I just want to be with you.”

There was a sniffle in the dark. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He took the hand that was lying beside him and brought it up to his lips, kissing it. “That’s it.”

Rose was quiet a little bit longer, then asked, “Is it black tie?”

“Aye. What you wore last week to the Vitex Gala would be perfect.”

“I can’t wear that, the tabloids would have a field day.”

“True.”

“I’ll go shopping with Mum this week. We’ll pick out something nice.”

Ian beamed. “You’re going with me?”

“Aye,” she said, imitating his accent, and he laughed.

“Cheeky.” 

“I think you’ll find that I usually am.” Ian chuckled and Rose giggled. There was just enough light to see the outline of her face, and he was dying to kiss her, to taste her. But he couldn’t. Instead, he stroked her belly one more time, pausing for a second when he felt Eleanor move. 

“Why don’t you roll over, sweetheart, and I’ll get the pillows situated for you. Make you comfortable.”

“I can do it,” she protested, and started reaching for pillows, squirming around. 

“Stop, Rose.” She stopped. “Let me do it for you, sweetheart. Please.”

“Are you going to sleep behind me?” she asked in a small voice. 

“If you want me to. If that will make your back feel better.”

She whispered, “Yeah. It will.”

“It would be my pleasure, sweetheart.” Ian brought her hand up to kiss the back of it and wondered if truer words had ever been spoken. 

He arranged the pillows carefully so that there was one between her legs and one supporting her belly, then crawled back onto the bed behind her, scooting up close, sliding one arm under her head and laying his other arm across her. His hand rested on her belly, and he wrote Eleanor’s name with the tip of his finger. Rose sighed contentedly and settled back against him a little more solidly; he scooted forward another half inch so they were snuggled as close as they could possibly get. 

It had been a long day and sleep threatened to claim him. He let himself drift, thinking about the woman in his arms - the woman he loved - and the precious baby she carried. 

“Ian?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you for bringing me to meet your family.”

“Thank you for coming with me.”

“Goodnight, Ian.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”


	58. Chapter 58

7 April 2012

Ian startled awake Saturday morning, convinced he’d heard a sound. Then Rose stirred beside him and he immediately forgot whatever had woken him up. 

Through rolling and turning in their sleep, Ian had ended up on his back with Rose’s head resting on his shoulder. She had an arm and a leg thrown across him comfortably, and her belly was propped against his side. He really needed to go to the loo, but there was no fucking way he’d ever disturb her when she was sleeping so soundly. 

So he laid there, tracing his fingers up and down her back lightly, staring at the ceiling and daydreaming about a future he’d never have. He saw Rose lying against him like this, sleeping and hugely pregnant, and a little brown-haired girl running into the bedroom and launching herself onto her parents, showering her Daddy with kisses and squealing when he tickled her. He saw himself holding Eleanor’s small hand as they walked up the corridor of the hospital, then hoisting her up onto his hip, going into Mummy’s room and introducing his little girl to her baby sister. He saw himself pushing his Little Face on the swings while she called, “Higher, Daddy! Higher!”

The wistful smile that brought on couldn’t be helped.

Rose stirred a bit, muttering his name and something else he didn’t catch, and snuggled a little closer to him. He fought the urge to kiss her, but couldn’t resist laying his hand on her belly. Eleanor squirmed, and he smiled. 

“Hey, Little Face,” he whispered. “Sleep, now. Mummy needs rest.”

“Mummy’s awake,” Rose said in a sleepy voice. He turned his head to see her blinking and rubbing her bleary eyes, raising her head off of his shoulder. 

“Good morning, sweetheart.”

“Good morning,” she said on a yawn. Ian grinned and she groaned, laying her head back on his shoulder and resting her hand on his chest. “I don’t want to get up. I’m too comfy.”

“You don’t have to,” he told her, covering her hand with his. “You’re on holiday. Don’t have to do anything you don’t want.”

“I thought you wanted to take me around Glasgow today?”

“Not if you don’t feel like it.”

“No, I’ll be fine. I just need a cup of coffee and I’ll be ready to go.”

He pursed his lips at her. “Rose…”

She raised her head and blinked innocently at him. “What? You _just_ said I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do. I don’t want to skip coffee today.” Her tongue came between her teeth and he wondered if she knew what that look did to him. It didn’t last, though. She yawned hugely again and laid her head back down on his shoulder. 

“You know you’re not supposed to have coffee, sweetheart.”

“One cup. I’m not asking for a double espresso, just one cup of regular coffee.”

Ian sighed. “If I give in to you, Christine will never fucking let me live it down.”

Rose giggled, and the sound was magical. He couldn’t help but smile, and the desire to kiss her nearly overwhelmed him. All he’d have to do was dip his head a bit…

“Oi!” came from the general direction of the stairs, and he and Rose both jumped a little. Fergus kept going. “Mam’s made breakfast, ye lazy sack! She says your bird needs to eat! Move your bum!”

Ian threw his head back, covering his eyes dramatically. “I’m going to fucking kill him.”

Rose’s giggles were infectious, however, and he couldn’t help but smile. 

“Don’t kill him, Ian. You don’t even have a candlestick to do the thing properly.”

“Throw his big stupid arse in front of a train or some shit. Should have done it years ago.”

“You love him,” she accused.

Ian grumbled something inarticulate, but didn’t deny it. Couldn’t. Didn’t want to. She’d know better, anyway.

“Better get all your swearing out before you go downstairs, or Auntie’s liable to take you to the woodshed. There’s no swearing at Auntie’s house.”

“She’d do it, too,” he said with conviction.

Rose tittered, then stretched to kiss his cheek and started to roll away while he was still dazed. “C’mon. I’m going to the loo before I explode, and I’ll change while I’m there. We have a busy day ahead.”

“Yeah,” Ian agreed, weighing the pros and cons of going to the downstairs loo before he got dressed. “But first, Auntie’s right. You need to eat.”

~*~O~*~

Rose dressed quickly, throwing on her jeans, white cami, and a floral blouse, hoping to beat Ian downstairs and get a cup of coffee before he caught her at it. She could fix her hair and makeup and put on her jewelry later. Coffee was needed immediately.

She made it to the kitchen and saw that the pot was already blessedly full. Muttering a little prayer that Ian wouldn’t catch her, she pulled down a mug and filled it, locating the sugar and mixing a few lumps in. 

Just when she was pulling out the cream, Ian rounded the corner. Rose braced herself for him to give her a dirty look, chastise her, something. But he didn’t. Surprised but grateful, assuming he was going to let her have a cup since they were on holiday, she kept on preparing the coffee to her tastes. When she raised it to her lips, though, Ian reached around her and grabbed it from her hand. 

“Oi!” she squawked.

Ian swallowed the sip of her coffee that he’d just taken. “Yes?”

“That’s mine.”

“Was yours.” He took another sip and cringed. “Too much sugar, ugh. How do you drink this?”

“Give it me back.”

“Not happening.”

Rose stamped her foot in frustration. “You’re an arsehole.”

“Ah, ah… no swearing at Auntie’s, remember?”

She scowled, giving him her best murderous glare. “I want my coffee.”

“Here,” Ian said, handing her a mug and a tin. “Have a tea. I’d fix it for you but I can’t set this mug down. You’ll steal it.”

Rose debated swearing at him in several alien languages that Auntie wouldn’t understand but before she could open her mouth, Fergus popped his head in.

“You two. Quit yer smoochin’ and get out to the table. Brekkie is getting cold and I’m starvin’.”

She felt her face flame and knew that she was probably a brilliant shade of magenta. There was no way she could look at Ian just then - at the moment she didn’t think she could ever look at him again. But she felt his arm go around her waist after just a second, his lips pressed against the top of her head, and he said, “C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s get you fed.” 

Fergus made a snorting, scoffing noise and pushed off the door jamb to leave. Rose looked up at Ian, uncertain, and although he was a little pink in the cheeks, he winked and took her hand to lead her into the dining room. 

Breakfast was just as delicious as dinner had been the night before. Ian looked at her speculatively when she was contemplating the full Scottish breakfast put on by Auntie. Rose had no way of telling him just then that she’d eaten some out of this world things - literally - and black pudding was no hardship. 

Once breakfast was finished, the four of them chatted for a while before Ian and Fergus, as one, got to their feet and started clearing dishes. Rose started to get up to help, but all three of the Scots told her to stop. She continued to protest until Auntie started talking. 

“You’re a guest,” Auntie said. “And a pregnant one at that. Besides, a little household work won’t hurt these boys.” 

“We’ve been doing this particular housework since we were six, Mam,” Fergus complained good naturedly.

Ian came over and kissed Rose on the temple. “Relax, sweetheart, and let us get it. We’re well-trained.”

She smiled up at him, having forgiven him for stealing her coffee, and settled back down into the chair, thoroughly unsurprised when she heard the two of them bickering from the direction of the kitchen.

“I’ll do it,” Ian was griping. “You always put too much soap in, looks like a bloody bubble bath.”

“Mam has a dishwasher, you know.”

“I know that, numpty. Helped install the thing, didn’t I? I just prefer to do it by hand.”

The response to that was muttered, then both men burst out laughing. Rose’s cheeks flamed, fairly sure she could guess what they were talking about, but the laughter stopped when there was a dull thud and Fergus yelled, “Ow!”

“Thought I hit like a wee girl, ye pansy.”

“You do. I just said ‘ow’ to make you feel better.” There was another dull thud, then Fergus said, “Ow! What’s all this for?”

“You deserve that and worse.”

“Prat.”

“Hark who’s talking.”

Rose looked over at Auntie, who was shaking her head and rolling her eyes. “I’m pleased for you that you’re having a girl, lass.”

Unable to help herself, Rose burst into giggles.

~*~O~*~

Ian helped Rose out of the car, as he usually did, but he didn’t let go of her hand from there, not even when she spotted Fergus shooting smug smirks at him. Ian paid him no mind - and Rose was glad. She was quite happy to be holding Ian’s hand, and even happier when he would put his arm around her, stroke her belly, or kiss her temple sweetly.

He was very solicitous of her while stopping short of smothering. The trio took breaks every thirty minutes or so, letting Rose sit or go to the loo, and he would occasionally rub circles on her lower back, causing her to bite her lip to keep from moaning. But all through the art museum they’d brought her to, Ian was touching her somehow. She knew she was looking at him all moon eyed, like an infatuated teenager. When he’d catch her at it, he’d just give her a wink and squeeze her hand. 

They finished with the museum of classic art just before lunchtime, so Ian suggested they find a cafe somewhere so Rose could eat and rest for an hour or so, then decide what to do next, if anything. Rose felt fine and told him so, but he continued to fuss over her and, well, she wasn’t about to stop him. 

Ian had nixed the idea of a sidewalk cafe, saying it wasn’t quite warm enough for Rose to be out in the air for so long. She protested until he reminded her that if she caught another cold she wouldn’t be able to take anything for it, that he wouldn’t be able to help her. Rose conceded, and Ian thanked her when he kissed her forehead. 

They finally settled on a little bistro a short walk from the garage where Fergus had parked the car. Ian lamented that Rose couldn’t put her feet up while they ate, and she just rolled her eyes with a grin. 

All Rose really wanted to eat was chips, but she knew she’d get The Frown™ from Ian if she didn’t eat something other than carbs. To placate him, she ordered a bowl of soup as well, not entirely sure she’d be able to eat it. She really wasn’t all that hungry. But when the food arrived, she was surprised to find that she was suddenly ravenous and tucked in immediately, doing her best not to look covetously at Fergus’ sandwich. 

Not surprisingly, most of the conversation consisted of Ian and Fergus needling each other. Rose didn’t mind, she actually found it very entertaining and informative. As Ian had predicted, Fergus enjoyed telling embarrassing stories, and she loved hearing them. She was chewing a bite of her chips when Fergus started another one. 

“So one time, in med school, Ian was dating this woman named Judith.”

Ian swore under his breath, but his eyes were twinkling. “Don’t tell this fucking story, Fergus, Jesus.”

“No, this is a good one,” Fergus countered, turning back to Rose. 

“I’ll give you a thousand quid not to tell her this story.”

After that, Rose would have paid a thousand quid just to hear it, even if she had to use Pete’s money. Thankfully, Fergus made an impatient gesture at Ian. “Haud yer wheesht. This is going to be good.” Then he turned back to Rose. “So Ian was dating this woman named Judith. They’d been going together for a couple of months --”

“It was only three fucking weeks, nimnole.”

“Longer than that. But the thing was, Judith was a bitch. And not just your typical unpleasant lass. We’re talking major bitch.”

“That’s true. She was.”

“Like, the female version of Ian.”

“Go to hell, dipshit.”

Rose giggled and Fergus grinned. “So anyway, Ian rings me up one night and he’s telling me all about his girlfriend. He bellyached for the better part of an hour about how she was making him miserable and he wanted to be rid of her but she wasn’t taking the hint. I told him to just man up and tell her it was over, but for some reason he couldn’t do that.”

“It wouldn’t have done any fucking good,” Ian defended. “She’d been hanging around the band a while and set her cap for me. She wasn’t letting go of me once she got her hooks in.”

“A girl that gorgeous, you’d think she wouldn’t have had any problems landing any bloke she wanted. She shouldn’t have had to settle for your fugly arse.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Ian snapped, and Rose fought the flash of irritation and offense she felt on his behalf. Ian didn’t seem genuinely bothered, so she reasoned that she probably shouldn’t be. She’d get used to it, she supposed. 

Fergus chuckled, proud of himself, then went on. “So anyway, there’s Ian, stuck in a relationship with this girl he didn’t like, and, well, I couldn’t let the poor bastard _suffer_ , now could I?”

“What did you do?” Rose asked, fighting back preliminary giggles.

“I had a long weekend coming up, so I booked a flight as soon as I got off work, it would land in London around eight. Took a cab to Ian’s flat, let myself in and, well, I set out to make an impression on my cousin’s girlfriend.”

Ian scoffed. “You burst into the bedroom and yelled at me, called me a cheating whore.”

Rose’s eyes went wide and she looked back and forth between the two of them, laughing disbelievingly. “You did _what_?!”

“I did, Birdie,” Fergus confirmed, chuckling. “Busted in and started shouting at Ian.”

Ian was laughing now. “In hindsight, it was fucking hilarious. He said things like, ‘ _How dare you, you faithless slag! I’ve given you the best years of my life!_ ’”

Fergus threw his head back and laughed. “I remember saying that every time I turned my back, he was running around, chasing tail. ‘ _I go out of town to tend to my sick mother, and this is the stunt you pull?_ ’”

“I think he actually said something like, _‘After I got that piercing for you_ …’”

“And Ian’s eyes got big as saucers,” Fergus laughed. “It was so hard not to laugh at his big stupid face, but I kept shouting at him until we heard the door shut behind Judith. Then I made him put his trousers on and we went to the pub to celebrate his newly-reclaimed freedom.”

Rose raised her eyebrow at Ian. “You had your trousers off with a woman you were trying to break up with?” Ian stammered, his eyes wide and a little panicked.

Fergus howled laughter. “She’s got you there, bampot!” Rose bit back a laugh, then Ian jumped as if startled. From inside his pocket, Rose could hear the ringtone of the answering service and Ian started swearing, pulling his mobile out of his pocket. 

“I thought Bannerman was on call?” 

“He is,” Ian answered, looking at the screen. “But they’ll still ring me if one of my patients has a real emergency. I’m sorry, I have to take this.”

“Go,” Rose told him with a smile. “Lord knows I’m not going anywhere.” 

“I’ll take care of Birdie, here. Go away. Be gone wi’ ye,” Fergus chimed in. 

Ian gave his cousin a withering look, bent to kiss Rose on the head, and pressed the green button. “Docherty.” Rose watched him until he stepped through the front door, onto the pavement and out of sight, then she turned back to Fergus.

"Why do you call me Birdie?"

"Because Ian the bampot denies that you're his bird."

"I'm not." He just gave her a disbelieving look and she flushed, suddenly remembering Fergus texting Ian a couple of weeks earlier asking about the bird at his house. She changed the subject before either of them could travel farther down that pathway. "Does _everyone_ get a pet name from you?”

"Only the people I like." He tossed her an audacious wink and she giggled.

"What about Ian?"

"That twat? Nah. He's boring. Deserves his boring name."

“How long has he called you Fergus?”

“Oh, since we were around ten or so. It was our grandfather’s name and we both thought it was stupid, but it doesn’t bother me. He wanted to wind me up, so he started calling me that. It just stuck.”

"Why don't you call him by his middle name, if you two are winding each other up all the time?"

Fergus raised an eyebrow at her. "You know his middle name? He told it to you?"

"Yeah, a few months ago."

He looked smug for some reason Rose didn't understand. "He hates his middle name. Hates it with a passion. I called him that one time in front of classmates when we were boys and he socked me in the nose, made me bleed."

Rose blinked, surprised, and Fergus went on. "He didn't get punished for nearly breaking my nose, but I got punished for calling him that. And with good cause, too. I deserved it, and worse. The goal is to wind each other up, not hurt each other. Never to hurt each other.” Fergus adjusted himself in his seat a little, as if uncomfortable with the memory of what he’d done. “Calling him by his middle name hurt him. I never did it again and I never let anyone else call him that, either."

"You really love him," Rose marveled. 

"Of course I do! He's my brother."

She beamed, pleased. "Well, he may not tell you, but he loves you, too."

"Of course he does! I'm spectacular." Rose laughed and Fergus did too, but then his smile faded a bit into something knowing. “You know, Birdie, Ian hasn’t brought anyone home in years.”

“What?”

“I said, Ian hasn’t brought anyone home to meet Mam in years. Decades, even.”

“Well, we’re… close,” she explained, flushing.

Fergus smiled indulgently. “I can see that.”

“He probably just didn’t want to leave me behind this far in the pregnancy. He’s been ridiculous about me, as you can see.”

“I don’t think that’s it,” Fergus said, grinning. “I think he just wanted you with him, wanted us to meet you. So he brought you.”

She was completely unsure what to say and her face was burning. She knew what she _wanted_ him bringing her to meet his family to mean, but didn't dare say anything about it. Finally, she settled on, “I’m glad he brought me.”

“Aye. I’m glad he brought you, too.” Rose detected hidden meaning in those words, but didn’t get a chance to suss it out. "He's mad about you, Birdie."

She flushed even darker. “You think so?”

"I know so. He's completely bonkers for you, whether the stupid git will admit it or not. Arse over teakettle. But honestly, you couldn't ask for a better man to love you than my cousin."

Rose willed her heart to stop fluttering. "That seems like an odd thing for you to say. You two fight all the time."

"Aye," Fergus allowed, "but it's brotherly. We'd fight to the death for each other, and both of us know it."

Rose didn’t doubt that. Underneath all the complaining he did about Fergus, Ian obviously loved him a great deal. 

“I’m not sure I can believe you,” she teased, hoping to deflect. “He told me not to trust anything you say.”

“Sure he did. I’ve been his best friend his entire life, and I know all the truly embarrassing stories about him - all the stuff he doesn’t want you to know. But I’m also closer to him than any brother and like I said, we’d both fight, kill, or die for the other. So he can tell you not to trust me all he likes, but he knows good and well I’d never lie to you. You’re too important to him for me to jeopardize your trust. That would hurt him.” He stopped and gave her a lopsided grin. “But I will take the mick every chance I get.”

Rose chuckled, but her thoughts were a maelstrom. She traced the pattern on her napkin with a finger. “So he hasn’t brought home a ton of women?”

“None since that bitch, Jenn.”

Her eyes snapped up, surprised. “You didn’t like her?”

“Nope. Hated the wench and never did grow to like her. Mam didn’t like her, either. She locked up the silver every time she knew Jenn was coming." Rose was shocked, completely agog, but Fergus went on. “Jenn was a money-grabbing bint, I knew it the second I saw her. He loved her, and she said she loved him just to lead him along.”

Still stunned, Rose asked, “Why - why do you say that?”

Fergus took a sip of his water, then sighed and rubbed his forehead like he was bracing himself. “Ian and Jenn met at a party just before he graduated med school. She was drop-dead gorgeous, an absolute knockout, looked more than a little like Liz Hurley. Ian figured he didn’t have a chance. But Jenn… well, she’d heard the rumors around town about Ian.”

“What rumors?” 

“How brilliant he was, how he was going places. His future was huge, and everyone knew it. The rock-n-roll thing didn’t hurt, either.”

Rose scoffed. No, she supposed not. She nearly melted into a puddle every time he played his guitar and sang for her.

“Ian has told me a dozen times over the last twenty years that she was out of his league, and as much as I love my cousin, in this case, it was true. Jenn could have had any man she wanted, and she decided she wanted Ian. But she knew better than to pursue him. So she set out to _be_ pursued, and let him woo her. She thought she was setting herself up for a life of luxury as a trophy wife.”

“But she wasn’t.”

Fergus shook his head. “Ian got into medicine because he wanted to help people. When he saw the need in the low-income neighborhoods, he set out to meet that need, regardless of the fact that it didn’t bring in any money. Jenn was not happy. This was not what she had imagined for her life, and they’d have blazing rows about it. Afterward, she’d always pout until he bought her something.”

Rose eyed him shrewdly. “I’m guessing you don’t mean flowers.”

“No, I mean big-ticket items. _Big_ big-ticket items. They bought a house. He bought her a little sports car. Ian got to be on a first-name basis with his jeweler. She’d ‘forgive’ him, then the cycle would start all over. It went on that way until she finally got tired and kicked him out. She didn’t love Ian. She wanted him for his money.”

“Did you know all this when it was happening?”

“No. I only met her a couple of times. This all came out in the aftermath.”

"How did you know she didn’t love him, then? When you met her."

"Her face didn't glow when she looked at him.” Fergus didn’t say anything for a moment, just gave her a meaningful look. “Yours does, though."

Rose dipped her head, trying to hide her embarrassment, then looked towards the door Ian had exited through. "Did you tell him? About Jenn."

Fergus let out a great sigh. "Tried to. You know what he's like, the stubborn arse. It was the biggest fight he and I ever had. We didn't speak for six months, and I wasn't invited to his wedding. After that, we’d see each other at Christmases and birthdays, but any talking we did was strained and I’d only show up to Mam’s when he’d visit if Jenn wasn’t with him. She rarely came because she didn’t give a shite about his family. He was furious with me for two years, blamed me for her not wanting to come around. But he knew the truth, deep down. When she kicked him out because he was doing charity work and not focusing on making money, he knew he could count on me and your da. So we’re who he called. That very afternoon I flew down to London, and your da and I moved him into Pete's cottage, then we took him out and got him fabulously drunk. He told us everything, then tried to apologize. I told him to shut his fecking yap." He stopped for a second, staring down at his glass of water, smiling wistfully. "I should have been his best man when he married her, standing by his side. But that was alright. I was standing by his side when he divorced her. Haven’t left his side since. Never plan to."

She was speechless and her mind was whirling. “He blames himself,” she said quietly - the only thing she could think of. 

“Have you ever noticed, Birdie, that good people tend to blame themselves when something goes wrong or someone gets hurt, and the amoral twats of this world walk around as if nothing they do is wrong, it’s all someone else’s fault? That applies here. Jenn booted him out because he wasn’t bringing in enough money for her tastes; he was taking care of the people who needed it most, and doing it for free. She complained that he left her behind all the time and she was lonely, but that wasn’t the problem and both of them knew it. He felt guilty about disappointing her, although he was being a bloody saint and Jenn was being a selfish cow. So he took all the blame upon himself. Jenn told anyone who’d listen that she was the wronged party, that she was basically an abandoned wife. He knows he wasn’t at fault, but he won’t contradict her. Not even to himself. It’s easier on his heart to believe she loved him and he hurt her than to accept the truth that she never loved him.”

Rose digested this and grew more indignant with every passing second. Ian was a good man, the best man. She’d be willing to bet anything that he’d been just as wonderful a man twenty years ago, when he was setting up a free clinic and working long hours on his residency. Sure, that schedule was bound to be frustrating and difficult on a relationship. Rose was sure that she’d miss Ian terribly if that happened now, but the times she’d get to see him would make everything worth it. And who cared about the money? She’d lived most of her life on considerably less than what Ian brought home from his practice. Why did Jenn need so much more than that? Besides, what had stopped Jenn from volunteering at the free clinic? She’d have been doing a good deed _and_ spending time with Ian. It’s what Rose would have done. Seemed like a no-brainer to her.

“He didn’t tell his wife his name.”

“I’m sorry?” Rose asked, confused.

“Jenn. He didn't tell her his middle name until a week before the wedding, when they were doing the legal paperwork. He didn't want her to know, was afraid she'd think less of him. And to be honest, it was probably a good call on his part. That bitch likely would have.”

Rose didn’t miss the hidden meaning in _that_ , but she had no idea what to say. Her mind was awhirl.

“He didn’t glow for her, either.”

She felt a rush of something, something warm and comfortable, but she couldn’t define. “He didn’t?”

“No. He didn’t glow when he looked at Jenn. But he does for you. Oh, how he lights up when you’re around.”

Rose was thrilled to hear what Fergus was saying. She’d known, really, but it was wonderful to hear it from someone else - especially someone so close to him. 

She nearly jumped a mile when she felt a hand on her shoulder, and then lips press against the top of her head. Ian took the seat beside her that he’d vacated a few minutes earlier, covering her hand with his and smiling. 

“You scared me,” she accused him.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to. Did my fucking cousin behave himself?”

“I did,” Fergus said with a grin. “And I absolutely did _not_ offer to show her pictures of the time you tried to grow your hair out and comb it back. Looked like you’d stapled a fecking poodle to the back of your neck. Bloody hilarious, that.”

Ian looked horrified, then narrowed his eyes while Rose did her best to stifle her laughter. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Fergus raised his hands innocently. “Just said I didn’t! By no means did I do that. Nor did I offer to show her your eighth year pictures.”

Rose was giggling, still trying to hide them behind her hand. 

“You’re a twat, Fergus.”

“You need to come up with a new insult. You’re losing your creative touch.”

“Oh, I have plenty, but I don’t want to offend Rose’s ears.”

Rose laughed out loud at that, laughed until her eyes watered. When she looked over at Ian, he was giving her a silly grin, then raised her hand to kiss the back of it. “Are you up for a little more of the tourist thing, sweetheart?” 

She nodded, smiling brightly. “I’m good. Let’s go.”


	59. Chapter 59

8 April 2012 (continued)

It had been a busy day, and Ian was more than a little impressed with Rose’s stamina. She’d brought trainers, knowing he and Fergus were going to take her around Glasgow a bit, and with frequent breaks, she’d managed to stay out all day. She’d held his hand the entire time, and the two of them had been the recipients of more than a couple sideways looks and second glances. Like always, Rose either didn’t notice them or didn’t care, so there was no acknowledgement from her. Ian certainly noticed, and when looks lingered, he’d laid his hand on her belly and kissed her temple sweetly. When he had, she’d turned and looked up at him, her face radiant, and he’d felt _so fucking proud_ to be with her that he could hardly stand it. 

They got back to Auntie’s around four, and all three of the Scots in the house insisted that Rose go lie down for a while. She’d argued a bit, but finally caved when Ian spoke to her quietly, reasoning with her and asking her gently, stroking her belly, just as he had the day before about riding in Fergus’ car. He’d followed her upstairs, situating the pillows around her to make her as comfortable as possible, crawling on the bed until he was behind her to support her back, and then smirked to himself when she’d fallen asleep almost immediately. Once he was sure she was fully asleep, he’d gone downstairs to help Auntie make their birthday dinner, like he had when he was a lad.

He was enjoying the time with his Auntie while Rose slept and Fergus watched footie. As it always did, it felt comfortable, it felt like home. When the cake went into the oven, Auntie fixed both of them a cup of tea and sat him down at the table. 

"She's bonnie, Ian." 

Ian sipped his tea, fairly sure he knew where the conversation was going, but also knowing he couldn’t possibly avoid it.

"Yes, she is." 

"She's not wearing a ring." 

"She's nearly eight months, Auntie. None of her rings fit."

Her eyes narrowed. "That's not what I meant."

He barely kept from squirming. "I know what you meant."

"And?"

“There is no ring. We’re not like that.”

Auntie Grace snorted. “You must think your gran raised a fool.”

“It’s not, Auntie. I’m not the baby’s father.” The words were like a knife to the gut.

“Where is he, then?” 

“Gone. He died.” He hated lying to his Auntie, but there was no way he could tell her the truth. She’d never believe.

Grace’s face softened a little. “Poor wee lamb. That’s awful. She seems okay though.”

“She’s getting better. In the beginning there were some days that were rough.”

“I assume you’re helping with that?”

He looked down into his mug. “I like to think so.”

“Certainly seems like you’re helping. Something is, anyway.”

Ian looked up at her with narrowed eyes. “What do you mean by that?”

“I get the newspaper, Ian. And magazines and the internet, too. I’ve known about the two of you for months.”

He felt himself flush. “You know tabloids, Auntie. They’ll say anything to sell papers.”

“See, that’s what I thought, too,” Grace said, spinning her mug around idly. “I didn’t pay it much mind. Figured if there was something to tell, you’d tell me. You mentioned her several times in your calls and when you’d visit, but you were cagey about her. I kept waiting for you to tell me something, but you never did, and you denied anything was going on when Graham asked. So I came to believe there was nothing to tell.”

“Auntie --”

“Then the photos came out of the two of you at the Vitex Gala last weekend.” She looked at him as if she were waiting for him to say something, but he kept his mouth shut. Grace went on. “You looked very close.”

He tried to evade, knowing it was pointless. “We were both going and we’re friends. It made sense to go together.”

“You know, I might have even believed that, if I were more gullible. But you came up here and I got a look at the two of you together, in person.”

Ian did squirm now, under his aunt’s shrewd look.

“You can’t stop touching her, and I’ve never seen a man look at a woman the way you look at her, with your heart in your eyes.”

“It’s not --”

“I went up this morning to wake you up for breakfast and your door was open. You were holding each other.”

“Auntie…” 

“You love her. Don’t,” she held up a hand when he started to say something. “Don’t you try to deny it. I’ve lived on this planet for seventy-two years and raised you from the time you were eight. I know you better than you think, Ian Docherty. You’re in love with her.” 

Put on the spot by one of the very few people on Earth he couldn’t lie to, Ian nodded. “Yeah. I’m in love with her.” He nearly sighed in relief, having finally said the words. It felt damned good to speak it aloud, and he decided to lay his soul bare. “I love her so much, Auntie. And Eleanor, too. I never thought I was capable of feeling like this.”

She leaned forward, putting her elbows on the table. “Then why don’t you _do_ something about it, son?”

He shook his head, helplessly. “She’s still in love with Eleanor’s father.”

“Doesn’t look like it,” Grace said, sitting back in her chair. “From where I’m sitting, she seems like a woman in love - _with you_.”

Ian laughed a little. “I wish I could believe that. I really do. But she doesn’t think of me that way.”

“She _does_ ,” she insisted. “Women in love with one man don’t look at another man like they hung the moon, Ian. They don’t ask to share a bed with that other man, and they don’t hold him as if he’s her only comfort in the world. And if I knew her just a little better, I’d be sitting her down and asking her what’s holding her back, just like I’m asking you.”

“Don’t. Please,” he asked with wide eyes. If Auntie did that Rose may run scared, and he couldn’t handle that.

“I want to see you happy, son. All parents want their children to be happy. And you know I’ve always considered you mine, ever since you walked through my door, all long legs and big eyes.” Ian nodded an acknowledgement. “I may not have given birth to you, you may be Thomas and Isabel’s son, but as far as I’m concerned you’re _my_ son, too - every bit as much as Graham is.” She hesitated for a minute while what she’d said sunk in. “Think about that.”

He _was_ thinking about it, had been for months. Eleanor’s DNA wouldn’t match his, but he didn’t care about that. She was more precious to him than he’d ever thought possible. He loved her and worried over her just like she was his - and he hadn’t even met her yet. He wanted to be part of her life, he wanted to be her _father_ , but he lived in fear that eventually Rose would get sick of him and shunt him aside. 

“I don’t know what to do, Auntie,” he confessed. “When Rose first came… back, before anyone knew she was pregnant, I took her on a handful of dates. Except she didn’t _know_ they were dates. After I’d taken her out a few times, I took her to Hyde Park and kissed her, and she ran. I’m not being dramatic, either. I mean she _literally_ ran away from me. It was only through a miracle and Jackie’s meddling that I got the chance to be with her again, even if it’s not the way I want. We’ve gotten close - very, very close - but we’re not… like that. I want to be, but I’m afraid to push for anything more. I don’t think I could bear it if she turned me away again.” He paused for a second, gathering his thoughts, then said quietly, “Sometimes - in my wildest thoughts - I think she might love me, too. But I can’t risk it. There’s too much at stake. I could lose her. I could lose Eleanor. And I think it may kill me if I lost them. I _know_ it would. I’d never be okay again, Auntie.”

“She won’t turn you away, Ian,” Grace assured him. “But she’s not going to act, either. That’s up to you.”

He nodded absently, then looked out the window, letting his thoughts spin chaotically. Grace patting him on the hand brought him back into reality. “Just think about it, son. Don’t let happiness pass you by because you’re afraid to lose.” He looked at her blankly, and she smiled at him. “Why don’t you go spend time with your lass? She should be waking up soon. I’ve got a cake to finish.”

Nobody had to tell him twice to spend time with Rose. “Yes, Auntie.” He poured the unwanted remainder of his tea down the sink and rinsed his mug, setting it down and pecking Auntie’s cheek on the way out of the kitchen.

As he climbed the stairs, a frame on the wall caught his attention. He must have passed it more than a million times over the last forty years, so often that he’d stopped actually seeing it a long time ago. His steps slowed and he peered at the object behind the glass. It was well preserved for its age, the colors only slightly faded: Fergus’ baby blanket, his name and birthdate embroidered on the corner. At one time there had been two blankets, identical save for the embroidery, gifts from their gran to her newborn grandsons. 

For the first time since learning of Rose’s pregnancy, Ian thought of the things he’d left in storage when he set up permanent residence in London. There’d always been the understanding that one day he’d clear out the rest of the attic where Auntie and Uncle had put the items they’d deemed worthy of keeping from his parents’ home. He knew that in the farthest corner were a handful of boxes containing some of his baby things, perhaps even a framed baby blanket. But he’d never had a need for them so they’d stayed.

He continued on to his room, wondering if Rose would be interested in sorting through them with him.

Rose had stirred in her sleep - just as he’d expected she would; she was growing more restless lately - and had rolled to her opposite side, displacing the pillows he’d so carefully arranged around her an hour ago. 

He stood in the doorway to his room and smiled at her, just taking her in, loving every inch of her. Even in her sleep, with some of her hair falling across her unmade-up face, snoring a little (which she would deny to the death), and with one side of her face covered in flattening pillow wrinkles, she was the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen or hoped to see. He smiled when he saw her reach out for him in her sleep. A shadow crossed her features when she couldn’t find him, and, well, that wouldn’t do. He couldn’t bear to see her even a little distressed, not when it was within his power to fix it. 

Slipping off his shoes, he walked over to the bed, crawling up behind her. She didn’t even wake, just reached behind herself for him, and he smiled at the knowledge that she just _knew_ he would be there. His sweetheart’s faith in him was bolstering. 

Ian slid up behind her so that they were spooned together, her back to his belly, slipping his arm under her neck to support it. She sighed happily and settled into him, and he laid his hand over Eleanor, rubbing his thumb in a distracted circle. 

What if Auntie was right? What if Rose really _did_ care about him the way he wanted her to, the way he dreamed of? What if his sweetheart loved him, too? It was almost impossible to believe, but Auntie had never lied to him before. Why would she lie about something so important now? She wouldn’t. She’d never hurt him that way. 

Lying in that bed, right in that moment, Ian almost had everything he’d ever wanted - everything he’d been too afraid to dream of. It was all so close to perfect - because of Rose. His _life_ was so close to perfect with Rose in it. And for the first time, he dared to let himself believe that she could love him, too. That she’d stay with him. After denying it for months, Ian let himself believe that holding Rose in his arms could be his life. The elation he felt at that threatened to choke him, and he couldn’t stop himself from pressing a kiss to the shoulder in front of him, inhaling deeply of Rose’s scent, huffing a disbelieving laugh.

This could be his life. Holding this woman in his arms, loving her with every breath. All of those things he’d been too afraid to believe - they could be real. And not only would he have Rose, he’d have a beautiful little girl, too. Eleanor.

His mobile buzzed in his pocket, startling him. Rose stirred a little and he shushed her quietly, even as he quickly silenced the phone. Once she settled back down into sleep, her breathing slow and easy, Ian dragged out the mobile and unlocked it.

~Joan: _haven’t spoken in a while. birthday drinks after the awards dinner next week?_

He felt dirty. He felt low. Here he was, lying in bed with the woman of his dreams - the _pregnant_ woman of his dreams - and an old flame was trying to make a date. It was his own fault, of course. He’d given Joan no indication that his life had changed, he’d simply put her off over and over. He’d been afraid to sever that tie with his old life, afraid to commit himself fully to this _new_ life, afraid it would all disappear. 

Well, not anymore. He still may not be ready to profess himself to Rose, but that day was getting nearer and he was more and more hopeful about the outcome. He wanted Rose in every possible way - not Joan - and it was time he made his choice known for good… at least to one of them. 

~Ian: _I can’t. My life has changed. I wish you all the best._

He tossed his mobile onto the bed behind him - uninterested in any response from Joan - and draped his arm back around Rose. She hummed, squirming a little, then brought her hand up to his, lacing their fingers together. Ian wasn’t able to stop himself lowering his lips to her shoulder again, giddy and in love.

“Mmm… good morning,” Rose said as she stretched and squirmed a little.

Ian chuckled. “Not exactly morning, sweetheart. It’s almost six.”

She turned her head to look at him with wide eyes. “You let me sleep so late?”

“Of course I did. We had a busy day. You need all the rest you can get.”

She settled back into his arms with a sigh and relaxed. Ian just held her silently, enjoying every moment of her nearness, starting the process of steeling himself to tell her he was in love with her. He was nearly ready. The time was coming. 

There was a grin in her voice when she spoke. “Is this how you’re going to start waking me up to eat?”

Ian chuckled, then nuzzled her neck, grinning against her skin when she giggled from his scruff tickling her. It took a herculean effort not to kiss her soft skin, but he pulled away, still smiling. “It wasn’t my intention to wake you up.”

“Oh?”

“No. I was just going to hold you for a little while before we were called down to dinner. That alright?”

Her voice was nearly breathless. “Yeah. That’s… that’s perfect.”

The two of them laid there together in his bed, curled around each other and chatting quietly about nothing. The shadows stretched across the room in the waning light until Fergus shouted something rude up the stairs, shattering the moment and making Rose burst into giggles. Ian couldn’t genuinely be cross, couldn’t be anything but delighted in the face of her happiness, and helped her up so that the two of them could head downstairs to celebrate his birthday. 

Now wasn’t the time to tell her. But soon.

~*~O~*~

_“Sweetheart, please…” Ian begged her. He’d do anything - anything - if she’d only stay with him._

_Rose gave a bitter laugh. “I don’t know what made you think I was in love with you. I love the Doctor.”_

_“Don’t do this, Rose…please…”_

_“I was never in love with you, you stupid git. I was lonely. That was all. I was lonely and you were available. Plus, you were right. It was convenient having a doctor at my beck and call during my pregnancy. But now I’m not pregnant anymore and the Doctor has come for me. I always knew he would.”_

_Eleanor began to cry in her arms, and Ian felt desperate to go to the baby - the baby he’d thought of as his daughter until twenty minutes ago when the TARDIS had landed in Pete’s garden and it had been made clear that she was NOT. He fell to his knees. “I love you, Rose. I love Eleanor. I love you both so much, please don’t leave and take her…”_

_“She’s not yours, she’s the Doctor’s! You can’t possibly expect I’d leave her behind when her father and mother fly off into the cosmos.”_

_He felt the hot tears streaming down his face and didn’t care. “But I love you. I love you so much… I’ll do anything, Rose, anything.”_

_“Go away. That’s what you can do. I’m taking Eleanor and going back to my universe and I don’t have time for this blubbering and whining. Pathetic.”_

_Eleanor cried louder, and Ian swore it sounded like she was calling for him._

_“At least let me say goodbye to her, let me say goodbye to you.”_

_“No, no time for that. We have to go.” Without another word, she turned and took the crying baby into the police box that sat in Pete’s garden. Ian tried to go after her but found himself stuck in the ground. All he could do was reach helplessly and call out to her, his voice desperate._

_“No, sweetheart! Rose! ROSE!!”_

Ian sat straight up, gasping, trying desperately to fill his lungs, his tear-filled eyes darting around so he could get his bearings. He was in his old bedroom at Auntie’s, but the environment he’d known as ‘safe’ since early childhood was doing nothing to make him more comfortable now. He needed --

Rose stirred beside him, turning over to face him. He couldn’t look at her, couldn’t stand to see her, couldn’t bear the thought of looking at her beautiful face now that he knew it was capable of such cruelty. 

“Ian?” she murmured sleepily. “You alright?”

“I’m fine,” he assured her in as bright a voice he could muster, pulling his arm away from hers and throwing his legs off the side of the bed. “Need the loo. Go back to sleep.” He bit back the ‘sweetheart’ that he’d almost tacked on instinctively.

Before she could say anything else he’d escaped the room, and he didn’t slow down until he’d closed the door to the loo behind him. Once he did, though, the emotional dam he’d been holding back burst.

Ian wept bitterly, grief and fear and anger flowing from him in gasping sobs while he bent over the sink and made only a token effort to keep himself quiet so Rose wouldn’t hear. It was a dream, it had only been a dream, and he knew that Rose was ten feet down the corridor, safe and sound. But she might as well be back in her original universe, she was so far out of his reach. He could never have her, he could never do anything more than love her and Eleanor from afar, and he’d been deluding himself all these months. 

It took a little while, but Ian finally got himself together. He splashed water on his face and dried it, letting the roughness of the terrycloth jar his senses. Hanging the towel back up he took a couple of deep breaths, then shut off the light and made his way back to his bedroom. 

Rose was lying on her side, facing the place where he had laid just a few minutes before, reaching for him. Every cell in his body screamed to crawl into the bed beside her and take her into his arms, where she belonged. 

But she _didn’t_ belong in his arms. She belonged in the arms of a handsome, dashing alien a universe away, the father of her baby. And it was only a matter of time before she took Eleanor and left him behind. 

He climbed on the bed, careful not to touch her and leaving a good distance between the two of them. Rose reached for him anyway, hooking her hand in his elbow and tugging a little. He didn’t shove her away, but he didn’t surrender to the desire to hold her, either. She wasn’t his to hold. 

Ian laid there, wrestling demons in his own mind, while the hours of the night crept by.


	60. Chapter 60

9 April 2012

Rose’s eyes weren’t even open yet when she realized something was off, and it only took a heartbeat before she figured out what it was. Ian wasn’t holding her and she couldn’t hear his steady breathing behind her. He was gone. 

He’d stopped holding her in the middle of the night, she’d noticed, and he hadn’t responded when she’d tried to tug him over to her. Sleep had claimed her again before she could ask what was wrong. She felt utterly lost without him, alone, and shivered in the warm room before she even opened her eyes. 

“Ian?” she called out to him, sitting up and looking around. They were at Auntie’s, but Ian was nowhere to be found. The pillow and blankets beside her were mussed but cold, indicating that he’d been gone a while. That was unlike him; he was quite adept at getting into and out of bed without disturbing her, having to deal with being on call so often. But unless he _had_ to get up and leave, he tended to stay with her until she woke. Rose knew he wasn’t on call this weekend, so it couldn’t be that. Maybe he had gone to the loo…?

She waited a couple of minutes, but Ian didn’t come back into the bedroom wearing his pyjamas and a smile, carrying a mug of tea for her and teasing her about sleeping the day away. Bemused, she got up and started making herself ready, keeping an eye and an ear out for Ian, but he never appeared. She even made a bit more noise than usual, hoping to notify him that she was awake and draw his attention, but he didn’t come. By the time she’d plopped down onto the side of the bed to wrestle her knee-high boots on - a job Ian had been doing for her more often than not in recent weeks - she was properly concerned. 

Rose decided to make her way downstairs as quickly as she could, but stopped in front of the mirror to check her appearance. The v-neck jumper she was wearing was his favorite, she knew, and it had never failed to pull appreciative glances from him to her chest. She had debated about bringing it, not sure if she wanted to pull such a stunt in front of Ian’s aunt, but now she felt a little desperate. Something was wrong, she could sense it. This wasn’t like Ian.

The closer to the kitchen Rose got, the more tense she became, despite the comforting sounds of cooking and the heavenly smell of the food. She could hear Ian talking in a low voice, and even though she couldn’t catch his words, she could tell that his tone - like his answers - was short. It added to the tension she already felt, tightening her muscles and bringing her to bite her lip. She was certain he had heard her come down the stairs, but he hadn’t come to her. He was ignoring her, and she didn’t understand why. 

Rose stopped just outside the door, listening carefully to the sounds on the other side, hoping for a clue about whether she should stay or leave in the context of what she overheard. She felt a breeze at her shoulder and looked up to see Fergus watching her. He was giving her a piercing, speculative look, and the intensity of his gaze made her squirm a little internally. 

“You should go in,” Fergus encouraged with a small smile and in a low voice, so the occupants of the kitchen couldn’t hear him. She looked back into the room at Ian, weighing her options. Rose wanted to go to him and make everything better, to take away whatever was hurting him and make sure it never came anywhere near him again, to let him know that nothing would ever be _allowed_ to hurt him as long as she drew breath. But he didn’t want her just then. She had no idea what she’d done wrong, but it was clear he didn’t want her.

“How does Rose like her eggs?” Auntie Grace asked in a low voice, almost tentative. 

“She doesn’t care, as long as the yolks aren’t runny,” Ian ground out in response. His voice was strained and clipped, unpleasant, as if the words were being pulled out of him against his will. It was a tone Rose wasn’t used to hearing in his voice, and it alarmed her to hear him that way now. 

“I don’t think he wants me in there,” Rose admitted in an equally low voice, fighting back tears.

“Would it help if I walked in with you? We can go in and get some coffee and I’ll walk you to the table. You won’t be alone. Eh?”

Rose weighed Fergus’ suggestion for a minute. Coffee. Ian would never let her have a cup of coffee without complaint. He’d be forced to talk to her. And she was willing to bet that Fergus knew that - the mischievous glint in his eye hinted that he did. She gave Fergus a small smile, then nodded. “Thanks.”

He offered his elbow to her, but she shook her head gently. “No, I think that may be overkill.”

“Ah, you’re probably right,” he grinned, then he pushed open the swinging door to the kitchen and raised one arm to show her the way. “After you?” 

Rose flushed a little, then nodded and squared her shoulders, following the direction Fergus was gesturing. Auntie Grace looked up and smiled as soon as Rose came into the kitchen. 

“Good morning, Rose, I hope you slept well?”

Ian didn’t look up at her, and Rose bit the inside of her cheek. “Yes ma’am, Auntie Grace, thank you. The bed was very comfortable.” 

“Good, I’m glad,” the older woman said, casting a glance over at her nephew. Ian still didn’t look up from his task, and Rose exchanged a quick glance with Fergus, who shrugged. He led her farther into the kitchen towards the table where the coffee pot sat, then handed her a mug. Rose watched Ian carefully for a reaction, but he didn’t look up from the potatoes he was peeling to acknowledge her at all. 

Rose squared her shoulders. She didn’t know what had happened, didn’t know what she had done, and thus couldn’t figure out how to make anything better. It felt like she was flying blind, and she wasn’t sure what to do. But she knew she needed Ian to talk to her, and the one thing he’d proven over the last few months was that he would make a fool of himself to keep her from doing something that could make herself or the baby ill. Feeling more than a little righteously mischievous, recognizing she was gambling, she stepped over to the coffee pot and poured a cup for herself, keeping an eye on Ian the whole time. He watched her every move, but made no moves of his own to come over and stop her. 

The tension in the spacious kitchen was so thick, Rose could have used it to flavor the coffee if she’d wanted it nice and bitter. She didn’t, however, she just added the cream and sugar to her tastes, staring at Ian, watching him, silently daring him to come to her. 

He did not. She raised the mug to her lips and waited for him to acknowledge her, but he didn’t. He just turned away from her and Rose couldn’t stop the tears that broke through. 

It seemed as if Auntie and Fergus had been waiting for the sound of Rose to sob, because the minute she did, they sprang into action. Fergus swore loudly and Auntie Grace was suddenly right there beside Rose, her arm around the younger woman protectively as she murmured something Rose couldn’t quite catch about Ian. There were some sounds of a scuffle that Rose couldn’t see across the kitchen, but she could hear Ian and Fergus sniping at each other. Rose tried to look at him, to make one more direct appeal to him through her eyes, but he sounded angry and Auntie was pulling her steadily in the opposite direction. Reluctantly, she allowed herself to be led out of the room, towards the sitting room at the front of the house. 

“It’s alright, love,” Auntie Grace said over the sounds of Ian and Fergus scuffling and arguing behind them. 

“I should --” Rose started, unsure what she was going to say or what she should do, really. The sound of the kitchen door slamming cut off her train of thought, however, and drew her attention. She stared into the empty doorway for a moment, tempted to run after Ian and apologize for whatever she’d done - clearly she’d done something - but Grace squeezed her around the waist and pulled her into the sitting room, away from the distant sound of the two men arguing in the rear garden.

“C’mon, love. I don't know what's going on, but Graham will sort him. It’s alright.”

Rose nodded, her lip wobbling, then buried her face in her hands and sobbed, bereft. She followed the gentle pressure of the arm around her waist, then sat obediently on the couch and took the tissues Auntie offered. “It doesn’t make any sense,” she cried, mopping her eyes and trying to pull herself together. “Everything was fine last night. Better than fine. _Wonderful_ , even. Now he’s… now…”

“Now he’s got his head up his arse for some reason,” Auntie said in a perfectly reasonable tone. Rose’s eyes widened and her jaw went slack with shock to hear something like that, but Grace’s eyes just twinkled mischievously. “There are situations where no other language will suffice,” she sniffed by way of explanation, putting her arm around Rose and pulling her over into a half-hug. Rose laid her head on the older woman’s shoulder and let the tears fall silently. “It’ll be alright, love. I don’t know what’s wrong, but it’ll be alright. You just let it out.”

Rose did. Honestly, she couldn’t stop herself. She wasn’t even entirely sure _what_ she was feeling, she just knew that the man she loved wasn’t with her, wasn’t talking to her, and she was wretched without him.

She didn’t say anything for a while, she just cried into Ian’s aunt’s shoulder and tried to gather her thoughts. Grace comforted her the way one would a weeping child, rocking her back and forth, making soothing, shushing sounds, and rubbing Rose’s hair while she cried. 

“I do hope you’ll forgive me,” Auntie Grace said quietly after a couple of minutes. “I’ve no idea what to say or do. I only had sons, you see. I’ve no idea what to do with a lass.”

“You’re doing fine,” Rose reassured her, pulling herself together and sitting up a little. “I’m alright. Really. I don’t know what happened. I must have done something, but I can’t think of what.” 

“I’m sure it’s just Ian,” Grace said. “That boy of mine, God knows I love him, but he can be a bit mercurial at times. Surely you've noticed.”

Rose breathed a tiny laugh at 'a bit', but sobered quickly. “He never has been with me, not like this. I don’t know what I did.”

“I doubt you did anything, love, truly. You wouldn’t hurt him on purpose.” Grace rubbed Rose’s shoulder comfortingly, then said in a quiet voice, “It’s clear to see how much you love him.”

She felt herself flushing and stared down at her hands wringing in her lap, but she couldn’t deny it. She didn’t dare lie to Ian’s aunt. “Yeah,” she breathed.

“So why don’t you do something about it?” Auntie asked.

“I’m not good enough for him, Auntie. I’m no one special.”

“You’re off your head if you think that.”

“I’m not. Really. Ian is… _brilliant_ , properly brilliant, and I’m --” she stopped herself before she accidentally let slip the version of her history from the other universe.

“You're the woman who makes my Ian the happiest I've seen him in years, this morning notwithstanding. Surely you must know that's every mother's wish.”

“He deserves the absolute best of everything, Auntie. That’s not me.”

Auntie scoffed. “That’s just your hormones talking, love. I’ve never seen Ian as happy as he’s been this weekend, until this morning. And I’ve seen the red tops for the past several months,” she said in a tone that was confiding, almost conspiratorial. “In every picture I’ve seen of him with you, he’s clearly happy. My favorite photos are the ones you don’t pose for, because his guard is down. You two are just natural together and you can see just how happy he is. You make my boy light up, Rose, and I’m grateful. I’d given up hope of ever seeing Ian in love.”

Rose digested this for a minute, and Auntie squeezed her a little. “I know I’m a bit biased since he’s mine, but I believe he’s worth the headache. Just be patient with him. He’ll come around.”

“What if he doesn’t?”

There was a racket at the back door, drawing Rose and Grace’s attention towards the sound. Rose’s eyes widened and she sat up a little while one corner of Auntie’s mouth curled up. 

“Sounds like he already has.”

~*~O~*~

Ian heard Rose when she came down the stairs. His instinct was to go to her, to greet her and kiss her cheek ‘good morning’, to help her down the last couple of stairs, to touch her in some way... but he couldn’t. He just couldn’t. She wasn’t his and he needed to get that through his thick head. 

He’d be taking her back to London today and after that, he wouldn’t see her anymore. He was going to distance himself, give the two of them some space. Ian Docherty had been getting along just fine before that young woman landed in this universe. He was sure that after an appropriate period of self-flagellation for being so fucking stupid to fall in love with a pregnant woman two decades his junior, he’d go right back to the way he had been. His life had been good, hadn’t it? Sure it had. He’d had everything most men would ever want: a good job, friends, more money than he knew what to do with… hell, he was sure that if he put a little effort into it, he could probably patch things up with Joan as well, so there’d be someone to warm his bed at night on occasion, whenever he wanted. 

His entire body cringed from just the thought of sharing his bed with someone else, someone not Rose, and he felt like gagging. The very idea of Joan lying next to him all night, of waking up and seeing her face every morning - no. Just no. 

“How does Rose like her eggs?” Auntie asked from beside him, snapping him back into the moment. 

“She doesn’t care, as long as the yolks aren’t runny,” he mumbled, doing his best not to look up to try to see the young woman in question. She’d be coming into the kitchen any moment now, and he’d be forced to talk to her, to tell her that he was taking her home, that --

Before he could complete his thought, Fergus escorted Rose into the kitchen and Auntie spoke to greet her.

“Good morning, Rose, I hope you slept well?”

Ian didn’t look up at her, wouldn’t allow himself to look, but positively bathed in the sound of her voice. “Yes ma’am, Auntie Grace, thank you. The bed was very comfortable.” 

“Good, I’m glad,” Auntie said, and Ian darted a glance up at Rose. His heart trilled in his chest at the sight of her, but he forced himself to look away before she could catch him looking. Cor, she was beautiful, wearing her slim-fitting denims and his favorite of her jumpers, the cream-colored one that laid so prettily over her collarbones. 

_No_ , he said to himself, shaking his head like he was trying to clear it. She was not for him. The best thing he could do would be --

What was she doing? He watched from the corner of his eye as she went to the coffee pot and set about making herself a cup of coffee. The little minx… she knew perfectly fucking well she wasn’t supposed to have that. Ian wasn’t stupid and he recognized the challenge for what it was. She was drawing a line in the sand and daring him to come to her, to cross it. Every muscle in his body tensed, wanting to do just that. 

...But he couldn’t. He just couldn’t. She was a grown woman who was capable of making all of her own choices. She didn’t need him trying to protect her or Eleanor. That wasn’t his place at all. 

Rose was watching him, challenge in her eyes, as she raised the mug to her lips. Ian’s brain screamed at him to rush forward and take the cup, to stop her, to stop this ridiculous standoff, and his fingers twitched. 

Then he remembered her sneering face the night before in his dream, mocking him for loving her. The tension bled out of his body and he drooped a little as the fight left him and he turned around sadly, back to the potatoes he’d been peeling. 

That gesture, that turning away, caused Rose to cry, and the sound of her sob set the entire kitchen into motion. 

“Oh, for _fuck's_ sake, Ian!”

Ian spun around, trying to understand all of the things that were suddenly happening. He saw Auntie putting her arm around a sobbing Rose, leading her from the kitchen. She was okay with Auntie,he knew. Auntie would comfort her and get her prepared to go back to London. 

Fergus was barrelling straight for him, and he tensed, ready to throw a punch if need be. But Fergus just started motioning impatiently for Ian to get to his feet and head towards the door. “Up,” Fergus snapped. “Get _up_ , you tosser. We're going for a bloody walk.”

The two women were gone, out of the room, and Ian shook off the hand that tried to grab his bicep. “I don’t need a walk.”

Fergus completely ignored him and dragged him towards the door and out into the garden, his jaw set, eyes blazing. Ian had rarely seen him like this, but didn’t really care. As soon as they were in the yard, he jerked his arm free. 

“Fucking let go!”

"What the fuck are ye doing?" Fergus demanded, his face red and angry, and his accent was so thick Ian was having trouble understanding him, something that had _never_ happened in his entire life. “You’ve always been a fecking idiot about women, but this is beyond the pale, even for you.”

"Leave it, Fergus,” Ian advised. “This doesn’t fucking involve you.”

Fergus shook his head with a sardonic laugh and a smile. "Nah, nah. Don't think I will leave it, ta. What the _fuck_ are you doing, Ian?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"What, you think I've never been in love?"

That brought Ian up short, but it really shouldn’t have. He scrambled to recover. "I'm not --"

Fergus threw up a frustrated hand. "Haud your wheesht. Just knock it the fuck off. It was cute and playful but I'm over it. You're in love with her."

“I’m not,” Ian insisted, wishing, in this one case, that speaking it aloud would make it so.

“Don’t insult my intelligence, you glaikit bastard. Stop lying to me. You are. You love her.”

"I don’t."

Fergus’ eyes were blue flames, flashing pure anger, and his jaw twitched dangerously. "Do you mean to tell me that after four fecking decades, you think for even half a second that I would use this woman or the fact that you love her to hurt you? Is that what you think of me? Your own brother, and you think so little of me that you can't even trust me with the truth?"

His cousin’s words hit like a log in the dead center of his chest, knocking the wind - and the fight - right out of him. Of course he trusted Fergus. There was no one in this world he trusted _more_ than Fergus. But he’d been hiding this incredibly huge part of his life from his brother - he’d been _lying_ for _months_. That had hurt him. And the goal was never to hurt.

Ian sagged. “I’m sorry.”

“Goddamn right you are!” Fergus snapped. “Sorriest sack of shit I’ve ever seen, treating a woman like Rose that way. Treating _any_ woman that way is absolutely deplorable, but a _pregnant_ woman? That you’re in love with? What the hell are you doing, Ian?”

"She's going to leave me, Fergus,” Ian said in a dead voice, his shoulders sagging. “Sooner or later, she's going to fucking leave me. I can never have her, not really. This can never be my life. I’m trying to… to brace myself, I suppose."

“She’s not leaving you, you twit, you’re actively pushing her away.”

He shook his head sadly. “It’s the best thing for her. She deserves better than me.”

“She deserves better than the way you’re treating her right now, that’s for damn sure,” Fergus agreed. 

Ian didn’t say anything, he just backed over to a crate that had been overturned beside the barn and plopped down, burying his face in his hands. Only a couple of seconds later, he felt Fergus sit beside him and throw his arm around his shoulders in a comfortable, comforting gesture. He waited for some words of wisdom or something, but his cousin didn’t say anything. The two men sat in silence for a while, then Ian spoke. 

"I'm afraid."

"Afraid of what?"

"Afraid it'll all disappear. It’s all too good to be true. Rose is… Rose is perfect, just perfect. And she’s having a baby, a gorgeous little girl..."

“Is Eleanor yours?”

The question was like a slashing wound across the heart and Ian bowed his head. “No.” 

“Where’s the father?”

“He… he died.”

“So he’s gone,” Fergus said with finality. “He won’t be coming back.” 

Ian’s eyes screwed closed and he shook his head a little. The Doctor coming back was his worst nightmare, literally, but Pete had sworn that the hoppers powering on was a fluke and not a sign of the Doctor’s triumphant return. Pete wouldn’t lie to him. There was no reason to believe that the Doctor could - or that he even _would_ , given the chance. _Ian_ would rip apart universes to get to Rose or Eleanor, but who’s to say that a _Time Lord_ would want a family? He was being an idiot and he knew it. But that fear wouldn’t go away...

“No,” he said in a low voice, willing his words to be truth. “He won’t be coming back.”

“You’re in love with Rose.”

Ian stared into the distance for a second through eyes that were filling with tears, then nodded, surrendering, letting them fall. “Aye.”

“And the bairn?”

“I love her, too. I love them both, more than I ever thought possible.” He was building up a head of confessional steam, but didn’t try to stop himself. This needed to happen and he knew it. “I want to be with her every minute of every day for the rest of my life. Both of them. They're everything to me, Fergus, you don't understand. She makes me so fucking happy. Everything is perfect with her. I love her so much, just so goddamn much. I want to be Rose’s husband, Eleanor's father."

Fergus' eyes widened. "You're serious?"

"Deadly fucking serious. I want it so desperately I can hardly fucking breathe sometimes."

“What’s holding you back, then, you fecking numpty?” Fergus demanded.

“I don’t --”

“Because in case you’ve missed it, Rose is just as mad for you as you are for her.”

There was a little flicker of hope in his chest, and he looked up at Fergus, giving him a half smile. “Yeah? You think?”

“God, but you’re dense,” Fergus complained, rolling his eyes. “Aye, fuckwit. She loves you. God knows what she sees in your sorry arse, but she sees something. And she wants you.”

“What do I do, Fergus?” Ian shot to his feet and started pacing in front of the place he’d just been sitting. If that was true... “What the fuck do I _do_?”

Fergus sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Sit down, bampot, and listen to me for a minute.”

Ian did as told, eager for any guidance or wisdom. His cousin took a deep breath, then started talking. “About ten years ago now, I took up with a woman named Colleen. Dated her for a while.”

He was surprised. “I never heard about her.”

“And you won’t hear about her now if you don’t fecking shut yer yap.” Ian did as instructed, his curiosity piqued, and Fergus went on. “I met her through a bloke at work. She was damn near perfect, Ian. Clever, funny, absolutely gorgeous. I was mad about her.”

“Well, what happened? Where is she?”

“I was scared,” Fergus admitted. “I was madly in love, but I couldn’t get Kimberly out of my head. That fear that I was going to get hurt again. Colleen was a completely different woman, nothing at all like Kimberly, but I was still afraid. Hell, she was nothing at all like any woman I’d ever known before. I didn’t think I deserved her. So I treated her shabbily until she ditched me.”

“You fucking idiot!” Ian hurled at him. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

“I don’t know, but I fucked up. And I just watched you do the same thing to Rose.”

Ian went very still, considering what his cousin had just said. 

“I went back for Colleen several months later,” Fergus went on, “I realized how badly I’d fucked up and went to try to make it right. But she wouldn’t have anything to do with me. Claimed to have a new bloke. I don’t know if she did or not, but it didn’t matter. She refused me and I had to walk away again.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Ian asked, knowing the answer. 

“Because I don’t want you to make the same fecking mistake I made, pushing the woman you love away because you’re a coward. Rose loves you. No, she hasn’t said as much to me, but I’m certain. If you go in there right now and tell that girl you love her, I’ve got a tenner says she says it back.”

He didn’t say anything for a minute, his mind spinning, and Fergus sighed.

“Ian, right now, you’re like the kid at the loch who won’t leave the shore because he’s afraid of the water. It’s natural to be afraid, it’s understandable. Nobody blames you for that. But you’re not going to be able to grab for happiness while you’re on that shore. You’ve got to be a little brave and jump out into the water.”

“Yeah?”

“Aye. That’s where your happiness is - out in that water while you’re stuck on the side.” Fergus didn’t say anything for a second, then got to his feet, giving Ian a little grin. “Actually, if you want to be literal about it, your happiness is in the house with Mam, crying her eyes out because you’re a prick.”

Ian felt the color drain from his face. He had forgotten that he’d hurt Rose, so wrapped up in his own thoughts… “Oh, fuck.”

“Aye. You should fix that.”

Right. He should do just that. But first… he threw his arms around his cousin. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now, gaun yoursel! Go get Rose!”


	61. Chapter 61

_Where d’ya wanna go? How much you wanna risk?_  
_I’m not looking for somebody with some superhuman gifts._  
_Some superhero, some fairytale bliss._  
_Just something I can turn to, somebody I can kiss._  
_I want something just like this._

["Something Just Like This"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FM7MFYoylVs%20) by The Chainsmokers

~*~O~*~

Ian didn’t wait for Fergus, his long strides gobbling up the ground and growing faster until he was at Auntie’s back door. He ran up the stairs to the back porch, threw open the door, and shouted for his sweetheart.

It occurred to him that she may not want to see him - and with good reason. He’d deserve it if she never spoke to him again. Hell, Auntie might not _let_ him anywhere near Rose after the way he’d acted. He’d deserve that, too. But damned if he’d let Auntie stop him. 

She hadn’t returned to the kitchen, at any rate, and Ian wondered if she’d gone to lay down. Looking both ways quickly, hoping for any glimpse of her, he dashed towards the stairs and his bedroom. 

“Rose? Rose!”

“I’m here.” 

He’d only made it halfway up the stairs when he heard her speak, and he nearly toppled when he spun on his heel towards her. Her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen, her makeup ruined, her cheeks tear-streaked. For the first time since he’d met her, her posture was guarded with him, and she wouldn’t meet his eyes when she spread her hands on her belly protectively, waiting for whatever was coming next. She looked braced for a terrible impact, and it wrenched his heart painfully.

Ian didn’t remember descending the stairs, he just knew he was suddenly standing before her, covering the hand on her belly and tracing her cheek with his free hand. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart…”

Her face crumpled and he pulled her into his arms, holding her as tight as he could. He was relieved to feel her arms go around him and her face bury in his neck. He swayed her on the spot as she cried, shushing her and apologizing, murmuring into her hair while he rubbed her back. “Please forgive me, sweetheart, I’m sorry. I was an arse, a bastard,” he whispered. Rose just cried.

Auntie came into the doorway from the lounge and Ian spotted Fergus propping himself in the doorway to the kitchen. He’d rather not do this with an audience but if that was what needed to happen, that’s what he’d do.

“What did I do, Ian?” Rose cried in his arms.

He kissed the side of her head, then stroked her hair, murmuring into it. "Nothing, sweetheart. You're perfect."

"Bollocks. I did something, must have done."

He couldn’t help the little chuckle brought on by her certainty. "No, Rose. It's me. I'm a fucking idiot.” 

Fergus spoke up from behind them, "He is, Birdie. _Definitely_ a fecking idiot." There was a moment of pause before they heard the sound of a smack upside the head and Fergus protesting. “Ow! He said it first!”

Rose didn’t look up or acknowledge his cousin in any way other than a huff that could have been a sob or a laugh. Ian didn’t bother to find out, he just cut a dirty look at Fergus. On second thought, maybe he _would_ take them to a more private location for this. He dipped his head and kissed her temple again. “C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s go upstairs.”

She nodded against his chest and he turned her towards the stairs, his arm securely around her, leading her, only glancing over his shoulder long enough to see Fergus and his Auntie give him a reassuring nod. He nodded back, hoping to himself he’d make them proud, and led Rose up the stairs to his bedroom. 

As soon as the door closed behind them, he pulled her back into his arms, cupping her jaw with one hand and pressing his forehead to hers. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, sweetheart, I’m sorry…”

She didn’t say anything for a while, just snuffled. Ian rocked her, whispering endearments and apologies almost too low to hear.

“What happened?” She sounded shaky, a little afraid. 

“I was an idiot.”

“What happened, Ian?” she asked in a slightly stronger voice.

“It doesn’t matter,” he assured her, wanting to forego any discussion of his dream if at all possible. “It won’t happen again. I won’t let it, I swear.”

“That’s not good enough. You have to tell me. What did I do?”

“Rose...”

“Everything was fine when we went to bed. Better than it’s ever been, even. But in the middle of the night, you stopped touching me. And then this morning, you wouldn’t…” She stopped, looking away, and Ian knew she was gathering her strength. 

“It’s alright, sweetheart…”

“What happened?” He opened his mouth to deny that anything had happened, but she cut him off. "You need to talk to me, Ian. This won't work if you keep stuff like this bottled up inside."

His eyes sought hers out, pleading with her silently not to make him relive the dream, as he was about to. His thumb traced her cheekbone and he searched for an out in her eyes, but she wasn’t giving him one. Finally, he broke. “I had a dream. It was a… a fucking _nightmare_ , really.”

“About what?”

“About you.” She was quiet, and his heart thudded somewhere in the vicinity of his throat. Telling her the dream would reveal all about his feelings, and the farther he went, the harder it would be to walk it back. But she had made it clear she wanted to know the truth and was looking up at him expectantly, so he took a deep breath. “I dreamed you left me.”

"I left you?"

He swallowed hard and nodded. "Yes."

“I died in childbirth,” she deduced. 

Ian went completely stiff: it felt like fifty thousand volts had been shot all through every cell of his body. Such a thing had never crossed his mind. “No! That’s not… no!”

“You didn’t dream I died?”

He caressed her face almost desperately, his eyes wild and bright with moisture. “No, sweetheart. Oh, fuck no. No, you’re going to be completely safe. I swear, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Well, that solves that problem then, because me dying while giving birth to Eleanor is the _only_ way I would _ever_ leave you, Ian. _Ever_.”

He froze, standing stock still while his mind bobbed and weaved and spun. Her words were beautiful, they were music to his parched ears, but he was afraid to believe. It was too good to be true. 

"What happened, Ian? In your dream. What happened?"

"You left me,” he whispered, staring into her topaz eyes, feeling every syllable as it left his mouth and made him more vulnerable. “The Doctor came back, so you took Eleanor and left me.” 

“Not gonna happen.”

“But --”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“Rose --”

Her shoulder stiffened under his hand, her voice harder and louder, reflecting her rising irritation. "Never, Ian. Not ever.”

Ian was a whirlwind of emotions, but a little agitation came through in his tone. “Are you honestly going to stand there and tell me that you wouldn’t jump at the chance to go back home?”

She pushed away from him angrily, her voice raised. “I _am_ home, you big dumb arsehole! Do you hear me? _This_ is my home!” He just stared at her for a second, trying to take in what she was saying. “ _You_ are my home,” she insisted, her voice softer now. “I belong with you.”

Ian felt his mind reeling, and he scrambled to make sense of what he was hearing. She couldn’t possibly mean what it sounded like she meant… could it? 

“Don’t you feel it, too?” she asked, her eyes shining. 

Oh, fuck yes, he felt it, and that was terrifying. He’d all but admitted how he felt, but did his best to hold himself back now for fear of being _too_ honest and scaring her away. “What about the Doctor?” he croaked, scared to fucking death of what she might say, but he had to know. 

“What about him?”

“What happens when he comes back?”

She looked confused. “Where the hell did you get the idea - oh, the hoppers.”

“Yeah.”

“If he was coming, he’d have been here by now. He wouldn’t have sent a hologram to talk to me in the first place, he’d have come himself and taken me away.” 

Ian felt his heart sink through the floor at her somber tone, felt his joy dim, then Rose looked back at him and her eyes were almost fierce. “He’s _not_ coming, Ian. But even if he did, it wouldn’t change anything. There's no way in hell I'd take my infant daughter on the kind of adventures we had, and there's no way in hell I’d leave my daughter behind to go exploring the universe again. He’d rather die than put down roots on any one planet, and even if he said he wanted to, I wouldn’t let him. I love him - I’ll always love him. I can’t help that, and I won’t apologize for it. But this life isn’t for him and zooming around in the TARDIS isn’t my life anymore. My life is here, with my family - with Eleanor and you. And that's a good thing. That's the way I want it." She bit her lip, looking belatedly shy, and then said, “I want to be with you.”

Ian gaped at her for a minute. “This can’t be real,” he breathed. “It just can’t. I can’t make fucking sense of it.”

“Make sense of what?” 

"This. What you’re saying. I just can't imagine that I could truly have something as wonderful as you and Eleanor. I can't imagine the universe will let me keep you."

"It's not up to the fucking universe, Ian. I'm staying."

He grinned despite himself at her language. Her eyes were sparkling up at him, her lips so soft and _right there_... 

This was it. This was one of those moments that Ian felt certain would change his entire life; the kind of moment he would turn over and over in his mind for the rest of his days. This was a _defining_ moment. His heart pounded, and he wanted it to last forever.

He took a half step forward and reached up to touch Rose’s hair, letting it run through his fingers idly, his heart slamming in his chest and blood roaring in his ears. "So, if I'm not leaving you... and you're not leaving me… What does that mean, sweetheart?"

“That means we can be together.” Bright tears spilled out of Rose’s overfull eyes, but she was beaming at him, smiling as big as he’d ever seen. "I love you, Ian. So much."

His heart stopped. "Do you really?" 

Rose laughed and nodded. "God, yes. Have done for months."

Ian thought he would explode with joy, and moved his hand to touch her soft, precious face. She leaned into his touch, smiling, a tear falling from her lashes onto her cheek. Everything he’d wanted, everything he’d hoped for was sitting in the palm of his hand. Happiness was his. All of his dreams were coming true in this moment. But, asinine though it likely was, he felt compelled to point out: “I want this. I want this so badly, you can’t possibly know. But you shouldn’t be with me, Rose. You can do better.” 

“Excuse me?” she demanded, stiffening and laughing disbelievingly. 

“I’m too old for you.”

She gave a loud ‘ha!’. “You are not, you daft thing.”

“Look at me, sweetheart. I look every day of my age. Who would want a wrinkled-up old man with grey hair and a beard?”

She trailed her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, making him shiver. “I do.”

“It’s _twenty-one years_ , Rose. I’ll be forty-six this week.”

“Why are you trying to talk me out of this? I don’t care. I love your hair and your scruffy beard, no matter what color they are. And I wouldn’t care if you were turning _ninety_ -six this week and you only had a few years left. I’d want those years.” He tried to talk over her and she tightened her fingers on him a bit. “ _I love you_ , Ian. How old you are doesn’t matter. I want to be yours for as long as you’ll have me.”

“Sweetheart --”

She released him, stepping away, leaving him instantly bereft without her. Her hands flew up in the air and she made a frustrated sound, then brought them down to her hips and glared at him. “God, you’re stubborn! I am in love with you, Ian Docherty, and I’ve never been so sure about anything in my life. I’ve thought about this for weeks and weeks - _months_! I may be young, but I know my own mind.” She stepped back closer to him, looking a little more shy now. “I want _you_ , okay? I love _you_ and I want _you_. I want to _be_ with you - I want to _stay_ with you - for as long as I live. And if you don’t kiss me soon and tell me you love me, too, I’m going to --”

Simultaneously terrified and more confident than he’d ever felt about anything in his life, he grabbed her and shut her up with his lips against hers. Rose reached up to the back of his head, holding him in place, threading her fingers through his hair and scratching his scalp a little, making him moan into her mouth. Her tongue ventured out, rubbing alongside his, and he pulled her closer to him, needing to touch her, needing to feel her body against his. He could feel himself hardening but couldn’t possibly care right then. Finally, after months and months of dancing around each other, of feeling like he was going to lose his mind if the tension between them didn’t break, of wanting her desperately, he was kissing her - and she was kissing him back with equal ardor. 

Reluctantly, he broke the kiss. Both of them were breathing heavily, and he oh-so-gently stroked her face, her beautiful face. She bit her lip and looked up into his eyes.

"I love you, sweetheart," he said, feeling like five stone had been lifted from his shoulders as soon as the words escaped his mouth. “I love you and I love Eleanor. Both of you. I love you both so fucking much…”

“We love you, too.”

He felt he an absolute, uncontrollable need to kiss her again, so he did, doing his best to communicate his love, gratitude, and the overwhelming _joy_ she brought to his life every moment of every day. Holding this woman in his arms, kissing her passionately, he finally had everything he’d been afraid to dream of. Rose loved him. She wanted him. And if he needed to, he’d work himself to the bone every day for the rest of his life to keep her happy. 

“I think you should brace yourself,” he murmured once they’d pulled apart, as he stroked her cheeks and looked into her eyes. “Now that I’ve kissed you, I won’t ever want to stop.”

Rose grinned. “If you ever try to stop kissing me, Ian Docherty, I’ll hunt you down and kiss you myself.”

He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against hers. “Tell me again?”

“I love you.”

It felt like his blood was fizzing in his veins. “Again?”

Rose grinned. “I love you, Ian Docherty. I love you so much, and I’ll love you forever.”

“Forever is a long time.”

“I’ve got a long time.”

“You’re not leaving?”

“Never. Eleanor and I, we’re staying with you.”

He hauled her to him, holding her as close as he possibly could and kissing her fiercely, thanking the God he’d denied for decades for what he’d been given.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day from RishiDiams and Caedmon <3


	62. Chapter 62

Rose very much wanted to pull Ian over to his bed and make love to him right away, and thought she might have been able to talk him into it. But when she tried, he insisted that they needed to eat breakfast, that she and the baby needed nutrients. She dismissed him at first, ignoring her hunger and distracting him by nibbling his ear, making him groan, but she was only successful for a little while. “Later,” he promised, and pressed a kiss to her lips. 

“You promise?”

“I fucking swear, sweetheart,” he fairly growled, and, as if he couldn’t help it, he caught her mouth with his again, kissing her deeply. Rose loved every second of his lips against hers, and she was determined to hold him to his promise. She absolutely couldn’t wait to feel his skin against hers, to feel him filling her. 

But between bawling her eyes out earlier in the morning and then an amazing makeout session with her bloke (her bloke!), Rose’s hair and makeup were an absolute disaster. Ian assured her she looked beautiful, but she couldn’t very well go downstairs to face his family with streaks of mascara running down her face, her lipstick smeared, and hair that had been tousled by sexy, long-fingered hands. So she stood in front of the mirror and straightened the clothes that had been shifted around by Ian exploring, then set about repairing her makeup and hair to make herself presentable. 

It wasn’t long at all before Ian slid up behind her, running his hands around her waist and nosing her hair out of the way so he could get to her skin. She smiled, couldn’t help it, and he started laying soft kisses that tickled more than a little due to his scruff. Heat pooled between her legs and she bit her lip, closing her eyes and reveling in the sensation of him touching her the way she’d dreamed so many times.

“I’ve waited so long to kiss you,” he murmured against her shoulder. “I love you so much, Rose…”

She turned, dropping her eyeliner, bringing her hand up to thread in his hair, draping her arms around his shoulders. “I love you, too.”

“You love me.” He sighed and laid his forehead against hers. “Gonna take awhile to get used to that idea,” he confessed.

“Well, we have forever now, yeah?”

Ian kissed her lightly. “Yeah, sweetheart.” He stroked the side of her belly and, as if on cue, her stomach growled. “We need to feed you.”

Rose gave him her best seductive look and sent her hands to cup and stroke him. “I know something I want to eat.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm. I’d like to take it in my mouth and run my tongue all over it...” 

His eyes rolled back in his head and Rose snickered, but damn his protective instinct, he put his hands over hers and pulled them away, bringing them up to his lips and kissing them. “We’ll pick this up the absolute second we get back to London and inside my house.”

She snorted. “There’s no way I’ll be able to wait that long, handsome.”

Before he could say anything, she turned and flounced out of the room, not looking but smirking at what she was sure was his dumbfounded look.

~*~O~*~

It had been an agonizingly long day, and also damn near torturous. His desire to touch Rose almost felt like a physical ache, and the idea that he was going to be able to touch her the way he’d fantasized about for months when they got back to London made him almost jumpy. The smoldering looks she kept sending him didn’t help, and his resolve not to take her upstairs and make love to her at Auntie’s had wavered dangerously more than once. Not that Fergus and Auntie didn’t know things had changed: There were nothing but smug smiles from them at breakfast, and they both turned blind eyes every time he grabbed Rose’s hand and tugged her into the kitchen or another deserted room so he could kiss her and tell her he loved her. 

Miracle of miracles, she told him she loved him back every single time. 

Finally - _finally_ \- the time came for the two of them to head to the airport. Fergus volunteered to take them, so they simply had to say goodbye to Auntie at the house. Ian helped Rose down the stairs with the duffel hanging on his other shoulder, and held her hand through the house out to the porch where Auntie and Fergus were waiting for them. 

“Haste ye back, Rose dear,” Auntie said, hugging Rose close. “And I’ll be wanting to see photos of this wee bairn when she’s born.”

Rose squeezed Auntie and said, “I think we can do one better than that. We’ll bring her up here to see you as soon as she’s old enough to travel.”

Auntie looked over at him with wide eyes, pulling back from Rose. “Does that mean you won’t be coming back until then?”

“Likely not,” he squirmed. “Rose won’t be able to fly after 34 weeks, and I can’t leave her behind. Eleanor should be able to fly at four weeks, though. Worst case scenario, if Rose goes two weeks overdue, that puts us here in the middle of July.”

“Too long,” grumped Auntie, then went over to hug Ian tight. “But I understand. You take good care of your lass, you understand? And of that bairn, too.”

“I will, Auntie. Promise.”

“I love you, son. I’ll miss you.”

“I love you and I’ll miss you, too. But I’ll be in touch. I promise.”

“Go,” she shooed him suddenly, “before you miss your flight.”

He started to tell her that it was a private flight which wouldn’t leave until they were ready, but didn’t bother. He simply helped Rose down the stairs and to the car, kissing her quickly just because he could before he handed her into the front seat. When he closed the door, shutting her in, he heard Auntie calling his name. He turned around, his face open. “Yes, ma’am?”

“Shave.”

Fergus snorted on the other side of the car and Ian tossed him a rude gesture where Auntie couldn’t see. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

He got into the car, checking on Rose as soon as he sat down, then waving out the window when Fergus honked the horn as he drove away. 

The ride to the airport was a bit quieter, although Fergus certainly fucking chattered enough. Ian was an inexplicable nervous wreck about being in the zeppelin with Rose alone for two hours on the way back to London. There was so much to say, so much to talk about - his entire future hinged on the content of the conversations they were about to have, and he couldn’t help but be anxious. 

Then Rose reached behind herself into the backseat for his hand and he took it. Just that little bit of contact with her was enough to soothe him and ease his mind. It would be alright, he knew it would. Just as long as he had Rose by his side. 

And she loved him. Unbelievable.

After they parked at the airport, Fergus got out of the car and walked them inside. Ian held Rose’s hand while his cousin told her a story from their childhood, making her giggle. When they got to the loading area, the trio stopped to say their goodbyes. 

“Rose Tyler,” Fergus started grandly, scooping up her hand and making Ian scowl. “I’m unable to express what a pleasure it was to meet you. You are beauty and charm in human form, and if you ever do decide you need a rescue from this nimnole, I truly hope you’ll call upon me.”

Rose giggled, glancing over at Ian before she favored Fergus with a bright smile. “I’m certain I’ll never want to leave his side, but I appreciate the offer.”

Fergus’ eyes danced and he pulled her into a hug. He muttered something and Rose gave a watery laugh, then said ‘me, too.’ Ian was dying with curiosity, but didn’t ask. His cousin let her go, and pointed at her belly with mock sternness. 

“And take care of that wee bairn. Tell her that her Uncle Graham can’t wait to meet her.”

Ian felt a shot of anxiety all through him. "You’re not --" he started, but Rose laid a hand on his arm, sliding it down to his hand to hold it, stopping him. He looked down at her and she shook her head with a small smile. 

“It’s okay,” she whispered.

"She's not what?" Fergus challenged with a raised brow.

"She's not…” Ian faltered for just a second, then recovered. Rose leaned into his side when he put his arm around her. “She's not calling you Uncle fucking Graham. She'll call you Fergus, just as she should."

Fergus smirked. “We’ll see.”

Ian hoped like hell they would.

“Miss Tyler? Dr. Docherty?”

All three of them turned around to see Pete’s pilot smiling, his hat in his hand. “The zeppelin is ready to fly whenever you are, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Anthony, I’m on my way.” 

“I’ll be happy to take your bag, sir,” Anthony offered, and Ian handed it over. Rose turned and gave one more hug to Fergus, promising to see him soon, then followed the pilot. Ian started to go after her but Fergus grabbed his arm, holding him back. When Rose turned around, he waved at her. 

“Go on, lass, I’ll send him along in just a minute.”

Ian started to protest, but knew that Pete’s pilot would be a safe person to help her onto the zeppelin, plus he was terribly curious what Fergus wanted, so he nodded and smiled, as well. “I’ll be right there, sweetheart.”

“Okay,” she said, then turned and went with the pilot.

Once she was out of earshot, Fergus lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Now, bampot, I’ve a very serious question.”

“What’s that?”

He put one hand on Ian’s shoulder and leaned in so he could speak quietly. “Do you have any questions for me about sex?”

Ian shoved his cousin’s hand off his shoulder, calling him an arsehole, and Fergus put on an innocent expression. “I’m only saying! It’s been ages since you had a girlfriend - years, I’m talking - and I just want to make sure you know what you’re doing.”

“I know what the fuck I’m doing, ye twat. I’m at least as skilled at sex as you are,” Ian snapped. “Almost certainly _more_ skilled.”

Fergus raised his eyebrows. “Too bad we’ll never know whether that’s true or not.” Then his voice took on a more serious tone. “This one is special, Ian. She’s different.”

He nodded. “I know.”

“Take good care of her. And that baby.”

“Fergus, all I want out of my miserable life is to take care of her and that baby for as long as I draw breath. But stop,” he punched his arm again, “fucking calling yourself ‘Uncle fucking Graham’, for God’s sake.”

“Why should I?”

“It’s presumptuous. No matter how much I want it, I’m not that little girl’s father. She's not your niece."

"The hell she's not."

Ian threw up his hands. "You're fucking impossible."

"Sometimes. But I'm fecking _right_ on this. Do you honestly think your sperm is what makes you a parent? C’mon, Ian. You know better, and I know you know better. She’s yours.”

God, he wanted his cousin to be right. But he couldn’t let himself believe something that wonderful. “She’s not.”

“So much you know,” Fergus said smugly, then his cousin pulled him into a giant bear hug. “Proud of you, Ian. Love you, ye bawbag.”

Ian hugged him back tightly. “Love you too, ye twat.”

Fergus pushed him away. “Go. Fly back to London with your lasses. I’ll see you soon.”

He clapped his cousin on the arm one more time. “See you soon.” Then waved over his shoulder when he followed Rose out to the zeppelin. He fairly bounced up the stairs to the cabin, looking around for Rose when he stepped on board. She was sitting in one of the sumptuous leather seats, and he went to join her, taking her hand. 

“Hello there, sweetheart. Fancy meeting you here.”

She giggled, her tongue wrapped around her teeth. “Going my way, handsome?”

Something inside him shivered pleasantly and he wanted to lean over and kiss her. It was with incredible joy that he realized he could, and did just that. 

They broke apart, smiling against each others’ mouths when the pilot’s voice came over the speakers, giving the standard safety lecture. Rose clenched his hand when they felt the zeppelin lift into the air and he put his forehead against hers to soothe her, stroking her cheek with his free hand, murmuring to her that she was safe, he would never let anything happen to her. He stroked his thumb along the back of her hand and kissed her fingers, waiting for the zeppelin to stop climbing so they could talk about the massive change in their relationship. 

However, as soon as the zeppelin leveled out and the seatbelt light turned off, Rose jumped up, dragging him out of his seat and into the aisle along with her.

“What --”

She spun around so quickly he had to grab the back of the nearest seat to stop himself from barrelling into her. Rose took one look at the scant few inches between them and stepped closer, her eyes turning predatory, like she wanted to devour him... and _holy fuck_ , wasn’t _that_ a thought? Ian felt his body respond instantly.

“Rose,” he breathed, meaning it to be an admonishment against whatever she was planning, but quite clearly hearing the sound of his own need in his voice.

“Come with me, Ian.”

It probably dated as far back as the first time he met her that Ian’s mind, body, and heart had collectively decided he would follow wherever Rose Tyler led, and this moment was no exception. Even when she guided him to a door that he knew led to the posh zeppelin’s bedroom and pulled him inside, he could only mount a token protest as he drank in the sight of the bed in the middle of the room, the sheets turned down invitingly.

“Sweetheart, you know what Ross said about…” the words dying on his lips when she turned around to face him, her hip deliberately brushing against the hard ridge of his erection.

“She didn’t say anything about us making love on a zeppelin.” Rose dragged her fingers up to his head and through his hair, pulling his face down to hers. “I thought I was going to embarrass us both by throwing myself at you in front of your Auntie.”

Something in Ian gave way and he covered her mouth with his, immediately deepening the kiss without thinking, wanting more. It took a second before his brain caught up to his body and he realized that Rose was walking him towards the bed. He tried to break the kiss but Rose chased after him and gripped his chest, digging her fingers in a little. He moaned and she apparently liked that sound, so she lowered her hand to his bum and did it again.

“Rose,” he choked out, pulling away from her.

“Yeah?”

He rested his forehead against hers. “Not here, sweetheart. We’ll be in London in just a few hours. I don’t want our first time to be rushed.”

“I don’t think I can wait to get you back home.” She lifted up on her toes and he could feel her grin against his skin when she kissed the pulse point behind his ear, then moved enough so she could nip his earlobe. “Please, Ian…”

Ian grabbed her hips, doing his best to restrain himself from groping her. Rose seemed to have no such compunction, and palmed his _raging_ knob-on through the front of his denims. The friction she was creating was unbelievable, the feeling of her hands on him was to die for, and he kneaded her flesh, striving for control. 

And then she began to whisper in his ear all of the things she'd been wanting to do to him for months.

He attacked her mouth, feeling nearly desperate to have her, to do what she had dreamed of - and then everything _he_ had dreamed of. Rose groaned and pressed herself tighter against him. He finally moved his hands from her hips, wrapping them around her torso to draw her even closer. She grunted and he broke the kiss, laying a hand on her bump in silent apology as he panted for breath.

He kissed her again, already addicted to the taste of her and so distracted by her sucking on his tongue that it wasn’t until she’d opened his trousers and carefully lowered the zip that he realized what she was doing. By then all he was able to manage was a broken plea - “Rose, _please_ ” - before she had her hand around his cock, stroking it. He threw his head back, groaning her name loudly, clenching his hands into fists. Her hand was small and soft and it felt _so good_. He was so overcome by the sensation of her hand on his -- 

Holy _fucking_ hell, that was her mouth.

He made an inarticulate sound and looked down, wanting to see with his own eyes, and there she was, kneeling before him, swirling her tongue around the tip of his cock while she pumped it. He reached for her, unsure what he was even trying to do, and spoke in a strangled voice. 

“Sweetheart, you can’t… I’ll come…”

She pulled back from him and her grin was absolutely _filthy_. “That’s the general idea, Ian.”

“What about you?”

She responded by putting one hand on his hip to brace herself and cupping his balls with the other hand, then taking him into her mouth until he nudged the back of her throat. He shouted - maybe her name, maybe the name of God, he didn’t know or give a fuck - and fisted his hands in her hair. Rose moaned around him, causing him to tighten his hands. She continued to bob up and down, jacking the part of his cock that her mouth couldn’t reach with her right hand, sucking with every upstroke, her left hand gently rolling and squeezing his bollocks. He was so close, so _fucking close_ to the edge, and he did his best to warn her.

“I’m close… _fuck_... I’m gonna come, Rose…”

To his surprise she didn’t pull off of him, instead she sped up her sucking and stroking, massaging his balls a little harder. 

“Please… sweetheart… _oh fuck_...”

She moaned happily, working his cock with her mouth and hand, blowing his mind.

“Oh, God, Rose… _please_...”

Ian’s vision turned white as he broke, coming harder than he could ever remember coming before, his muscles seizing up while fire raced across his nerves and he called her name brokenly, feeling more whole than he ever had.


	63. Chapter 63

Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over him until he didn’t think he could stand anymore, but still she sucked him. Finally, absolutely spent, he opened his eyes and looked down at her. Rose was still at his cock, licking it clean. 

“Sweetheart,” he croaked.

“Hmm?”

The vibrations of her mouth on him triggered an aftershock. When he could think straight again - a moment which just happened to coincide with Rose stopping her oral ministrations - he remembered that she was nearly eight months pregnant and kneeling on the floor. He reached down for her. “Let me help you up.”

She laid one last kiss on the head of his softening cock and then let him help her stand. Once she was on her feet again, he pulled her into his arms and buried his face in her neck.

“Thank you, sweetheart. You really didn’t have to do that, but thank you.”

Her fingers carded through his hair and he could hear the barely-concealed laugh in her voice, “I’ve been absolutely dying to do that. Weren’t you listening? That was only, like, number five on the list.”

He leaned back far enough so that he could see her face. “Number five, huh? What happened to one through four?”

“Well,” she smiled, stroking one hand down her belly, “like Dr. Ross said, we’ll have to save some of the more _adventurous_ things for later.”

Ian laughed and cupped her cheek, dipping down to kiss her again, trying to imbue the kiss with everything he felt for her. It was an impossible task, but he sure as fuck enjoyed trying. He tasted himself on her, in her, and the pride he felt from that was immeasurable. She was his, only his, and she loved him.

“I love you,” he breathed when they parted, retreating just a couple of inches.

“Yeah?”

He pushed her hair back from her face. “You’ll never know how much, Rose. I’ll never be able to show you properly. But I’ll spend the rest of my fucking life trying, if you’ll let me.”

She nodded, biting her lip on a smile. “Yeah. I’d like that. But for now… think you could take me to bed?”

Ian had never been able to deny anything to Rose before, and he sure as fuck wasn’t able to deny her this now. He gestured toward the bed, determined to repay her for what she’d done, which, now that he thought about it, was probably exactly what she’d had in mind. Stepping out of the trousers and pants that were puddled around his ankles, toeing his shoes and socks off hurriedly, he followed a step behind her, his gaze trained on the exaggerated swing of her hips. If he allowed himself to think about how her parents had most likely already christened the bed, he’d never be able to go through with it.

She stopped beside the bed, turning to face him and taking a step back, dropping his hand. Her lip went between her teeth, her hands went to the hem of her jumper and she looked away uncertainly, then crawled up onto the bed so she was kneeling on it, still facing him. Still not meeting his eye, she whipped off her jumper, leaving herself in her white lace bra - which she promptly removed and cast aside. 

Ian gaped at her. Couldn’t seem to help himself. The woman of his dreams sat in front of him on the bed, topless, _glorious_ , and biting her lip anxiously. She looked down, then crossed her arms over herself. “I’m sorry. I used to look… better.”

He climbed onto the bed with her, his eyes never leaving her. Then he reached forward and pulled her arms away, caressing her breasts with the lightest possible touch, awestruck that he was allowed to do so. “Sweetheart, you’re the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen in my life. You’re perfect.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, fuck yeah.”

“I love you.”

He didn’t answer, instead he decided to show her by leaning forward, threading his fingers through her hair behind her ear and kissing her. It didn’t take long for the heat to ratchet up between them, and Rose threw her arms around his shoulders, pulling him on top of her when she laid down. Propping his body on one elbow, so he covered her partially but wasn’t crushing Eleanor, he slipped one leg between hers, grinding it against the apex of her thighs.

Needing air, he broke the kiss, but didn’t wait before he started dropping little kisses against her jaw and neck, one of his hands going down to her breast to caress and stroke her. Rose inhaled sharply, and he flexed his fingers in the soft flesh there. 

She seemed spurred into action and pressed a line of kisses to his chin and along his jaw. Ian rolled his head back a little, granting her more room. He was so distracted by the play of her lips, tongue and teeth on his neck that at first he didn’t feel her pulling at his shirt, trying to take it off. Deciding he could help, he sat up quickly and pulled it over his head, and before she could get too good a look at him he laid back down, his hardening cock trapped between them. 

The sensation of her skin against his was nearly overwhelming, and he trailed his hand from her hair to her shoulder, down her side, stopping to run his thumb gently along the swell of her breast. He was just so _fucking_ grateful that she was allowing him to touch her this way, the way he’d always dreamed. When he reached her bum he realized that it was still covered in denim. So he pulled his lips away from hers and started trailing them downwards, then went to his knees. 

“Where are you going?”

“Seems I’m naked,” he explained, walking backwards on his knees, towards her feet. 

Her eyes smoldered and she looked him up and down. “Yes, you sure are.” He felt a surge of self-consciousness and she grinned. “I rather like it.”

“You do?” he asked, pulling off her boots.

“Sure do, handsome. I fucking love it.”

Ian sagged a little with relief, then tugged off her socks and hooked his fingers in the tops of her denims. “Well, I thought it a bit unfair that you can see me, but I can’t fucking see you.”

“I certainly hope you’re going to be fucking me as well as seeing me,” she teased, raising her bum so he could tug down her denims and knickers in one go. Once he’d pulled them off her feet and left her as naked as he was, she bent her knees and spread them, opening herself to him.

He was mind-blown. All he wanted was to make sweet, tender love to her. He wanted to show her just how precious she was and just how much he worshipped her, to physically express just how deeply he loved her. But here she was, laid out before him like an offering, holding out her hands to him with her lip between her teeth. She was a goddess, an angel, and he felt utterly unworthy to touch her. But he would. Oh, fuck yes. He would.

“Ian, please…”

“What do you want, sweetheart?” he asked, crawling forward so he was hovering over her, unable to resist the temptation of her pink nipples for another second. He dipped his head and took one into his mouth, mindful that she would be sensitive, hoping to use that to his advantage. Shifting his weight onto one hand, he cupped her free breast, using the sounds she was making and her pulling of his hair to gauge how he should touch her, pinching and tugging that nipple until it was hard between his fingers. Satisfied, he let his hand slide down the side of her body, skirting her bump, until he got to the place her thighs met and the thatch of hair that hid her from him. Ian groaned, pulling off of the breast he was suckling and kissing a trail across her chest to pay attention to the other. 

“Tell me what you want, Rose. You can have anything…”

“Touch me,” she whined, and Ian didn’t waste a moment before he dipped a finger inside her tight channel, latching onto her other breast at the same time. Rose moaned from the sensation, and he moaned along with her due to how fucking _wet_ she was. He pumped it a couple of times before he slid a second finger in beside it and circled his thumb around her clit, basking in the way she clenched her hands in his hair and gasped his name. Her breath caught when he dragged the pad of his thumb across it, and he smiled around her breast. She was wonderfully responsive to his touch, and it thrilled him. 

He played with her clit a little more, relishing the sounds she made and the way she squirmed, then released her breast. Rose clutched at him while he fucked her with his hand, her short nails digging in a bit, and Ian wanted to feel them drag across his back while he fucked her. But first…

“I want to taste you, sweetheart,” he told her, his lips dragging up the column of her neck towards her mouth. She caught his head between her hands and kissed him hard, rolling her hips to meet his hand, whimpering a little. When they broke the kiss, both of them panting, he asked, “Can I?”

“You want to... put your mouth on me?”

“Christ, yes,” he said in a gush, then the uncertainty of her tone hit him. “You’ve never --?”

Rose shook her head, flushing, biting her lip, and he couldn’t help but smile down at her before he kissed her gently. 

“I won’t if you don’t want me to. But I’m certain you’ll fucking love it. If you don’t, I’ll stop. Alright? Just say the word.”

“Alright,” she said, still sounding uncertain, and he kissed her, hoping to reassure her. 

“I love you,” he murmured, not waiting for an answer before he started kissing his way down her body. Within moments, he was lying between her legs, staring at his hand while it fucked her, his cock pressing insistently against the duvet. He didn’t take in the show for long, however, before he pulled his fingers out suddenly and covered her with his mouth.

Rose let out a strangled cry of his name and her hips flew off the bed, but he wrapped one arm around her thigh to hold her still and started to lick and tease her, letting his tongue explore all the little folds. He lapped around her entrance, seeking out as much of her taste as he could, then sharpened his tongue and went to her clit, teasing it out of its little hood. She shouted again, one hand gripping his short hair, and he looked forward to the day when she wasn’t pregnant and he’d be able to watch her while he gave her this pleasure. 

He was just about to pull off and ask her if she liked it when she panted, “Don’t stop,” and he had his answer. Fighting a smirk, he brought his hand back into play, sliding his long fingers back into her, pumping her with them. She started to babble, writhing in front of him, and he worried briefly that his arm around her thigh was too tight. When he loosened it, though, she whined, so he tightened again and kept licking her, determined to give her the kind of orgasm she’d only ever read about.

Despite it being their first time together, he sensed from the small, rhythmic thrusts of her hips and the increase of swearing in her babbling that she was getting close. Without stopping the action of his tongue, he added a third finger to prepare her for his cock, driving them in and out of her with just a touch more force. She seemed to appreciate the effort, and her babbling became begging. 

“Please, Ian, I’m so close...please…”

A little upwards curl of his fingers and a press of his tongue against her clit and she was soaring, her back arched, heels digging into the bed, her voice calling for him nearly desperately while he used every trick in his considerable arsenal to prolong her orgasm. He ground his teeth, grasping for control, focusing the entirety of his attention on working her down slowly. Soon. He’d be making love to her very, very soon.

When she had settled somewhat, he planted one last kiss to her clit, enjoying the way she jumped with an aftershock, and withdrew his fingers slowly before he slid them into his own mouth to taste her one last time - for now. 

“Ian,” she panted, her chest heaving with each breath, “Ian, I want you. Please.”

He needed no further encouragement. Going up on hands and knees and trying hard not to give away how smug he felt, he crawled up her body, wiping his bearded mouth and chin on his arm before he descended on her mouth. The need to be inside her was riding him hard, but her kiss was almost languid, and he tried to follow her lead. Ian was struggling to stay coherent, much less slow and easy when all his body wanted to do was bury itself in her heat and fuck her into the mattress. His patience was utterly spent when they broke apart, and he asked, “Do you want to, sweetheart?”

Rose nodded, still breathing heavily, and that was all the permission he needed. Reaching up, he grabbed two pillows and encouraged her to raise her hips, situating the pillows under. Once he was sure she was as comfortable as possible, he kissed her again. Her hands smoothed all over his body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. He rolled his hips again, parting her with the tip of his cock, grinding his teeth, refraining from fucking her senseless by sheer force of will. Rose shifted beneath him, making the head of his erection slide over her clit. Her breath caught and he pressed forward just a bit, rubbing against her again. She let out a low moan and bit her lip, moving her body sinuously, dragging her hands up and down the bare skin of his back. He repeated the motion, then again, then _again_ , until he’d set up a steady rhythm, dragging his cock through her wetness and heat without actually entering her. 

“Stop teasing me, Ian,” she whined, and he grinned against her neck while he lined himself up.

“Are you ready, sweetheart?”

Rose nodded and he pressed into her, slowly, both of them groaning, Ian swearing. It felt so good, the best thing he’d ever felt in his entire life, and he swore he’d never let her go. Once he’d gone as far as her body would allow, he paused and dropped his forehead to her shoulder. “Fuck, sweetheart, you’re so goddamn _tight_...” Her arms were wrapped around him and she had one leg looped over his. He could feel her trembling and raised his head, even though he was trembling himself. “Sweetheart? Am I hurting you?”

She shook her head. “No. It doesn’t hurt. It’s just...so big…”

He puffed with pride and even let out a little laugh. 

“I’m fine,” she went on. “Just takes a minute. You feel so good…”

Oh, he was about to make her feel even better.

Slowly, so slowly, he pulled himself out until only the head of his cock remained inside her, then slid back in, marveling at the way being with her felt so right, so incredibly fucking _right_. Rose clutched at his shoulders, and he did it again, then again, setting up a slow, steady rhythm. 

“You alright?” he asked.

“Please, Ian, _please_...”

He sped up a little, thrusting his hips with a little more power, lowering his mouth to her chest and planting open-mouth kisses on every bit of her he could reach. This was what making love was supposed to be, this is how it was supposed to feel, and he was humbled. The pleasure of making love to this woman - of _loving_ this woman - was all his for the rest of his life. 

“Ian,” she whimpered, and his hips stuttered from fear he’d hurt her. 

“Sweetheart?”

“Don’t stop! Don’t ever stop! Please…”

He was going to have to stop soon… the pressure at the base of his spine and contraction of his balls told him that he was headed for a thundering crescendo. But he was determined not to go over alone, so he angled his hips a little and tugged on the back of her thigh, encouraging her to wrap her legs around his waist. She screamed at the new position and he worried briefly about the flight attendants rushing in to check on her, then her heat clenched around him, making things impossibly tighter, and he couldn’t give a fuck. Rose dragged her nails down the skin of his back, the same way he’d dreamed of for months, and he shuddered with pleasure. 

“I’m gonna come, Ian, please don’t stop, I’m gonna come…”

Ian put on a burst of speed, feeling himself teetering on the brink but determined to take her over with him. Just when he thought he couldn’t stand another second, Rose threw her head back, clutching the back of his neck and coming hard around him. He fucked her through her orgasm, barely hanging on, and then she opened her eyes and looked at him. 

“I love you…”

Just as it had in every erotic dream or fantasy he’d had in the last several months, her confession of love sent him flying over the edge and he erupted, calling her name brokenly. He’d stopped his thrusts into her, but he still felt his cock pulsing as he came, shudders coursing through his body. 

Rose’s hands continued to rub and stroke his back, triggering aftershocks, and his arms trembled. He couldn’t relax them because he’d crush Eleanor, but he wouldn’t be able to hold the position much longer. He knew he’d have to pull out sooner than he’d like, but while he was still joined to her, he lowered his head and kissed her one more time, deeply, almost overcome with love for this woman. 

Once he felt his arms were going to give way, he pressed one more kiss to her lips and pulled out, collapsing beside her, still trying to catch his breath. Once he was able to focus on something other than himself, he worried that Rose’s shivers might be from cold, so he reached down and pulled the duvet on top of them. The two of them settled into the bed, Rose lying in his arms, right where she belonged - right where he intended to keep her. Her skin was warm, still a little flushed and, skating his hand over her back, he thought he’d never felt anything so smooth or soft. 

"Why didn't we do that sooner?" she asked, nuzzling into him.

He chuckled and planted a kiss on her head. "I've been wanting to do that for a long fucking time, sweetheart."

"Me, too."

"I want to do it again sometime. Sometime soon."

She giggled lightly and turned her face deeper into his chest. He crooked his finger under her chin and lifted until she was looking up at him.

"I told Pete months ago, sweetheart, and I’m telling you now - I’m not going anywhere unless you make me, and even if you do, I’ll put up a fight. I want to be with you in every sense of the word, and I want to be with you to the very end of my days." Rose’s eyes filled with tears and he cupped her cheek. "I love you, sweetheart. I promise to love you - and Eleanor - forever."

"Yeah?" she breathed.

Ian smiled gently. "Yeah."

“I love you, too. So much, Ian. You mean everything to me - you and Eleanor _are_ my everything. I never want to be anywhere but with you.” She stretched her body a little and angled her face for a kiss, and he was only too happy to meet her lips with his. There was less urgency now, although he could feel the simmering heat under the kiss. His hands slid over her skin lightly, memorizing her, glorying in the knowledge that she was his to touch at will.

“How long before we land?”

Ian raised his arm to check his watch. “Twenty-five minutes. We don’t have long.”

“We have the rest of our lives,” she corrected him, and his heart soared. 

He chuckled and pressed a kiss to her nose. “You’re right. We do.”

Rose snuggled into him a little more. “Let’s lay here as long as we can.”

“I’m more than glad to, but we have to be in our seats when they start the descent.” 

“It won’t take me long to get dressed,” she protested, even though they both knew it wasn’t true. He didn’t point that out, but she sighed as if he had. “I’m not ready to let you go yet.”

Ian beamed. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready to let you go, sweetheart.”

“So where are we going when we land?” she asked, doodling on his bare chest with her finger. 

“Anywhere you want.”

“Back to yours?”

He kissed her quickly. “Perfect. But we should probably stop by the cottage on the way and get you whatever you’ll need to stay with me for a bit.” She giggled, squealed, and drew up her shoulders when he nuzzled her neck and growled, “Once I have you there, we’re not going to be fucking leaving for a while.”

“I hope not, handsome,” she grinned, then her tongue went between her teeth. “You don’t want to go to the cottage? Stay fifty yards from my mum’s back door?” Rose giggled again when he pretended to shudder, then her smile softened somehow, and she reached up to touch his cheek. “I don’t care where we go, honestly. I just know that I never intend to pass another night in bed without you beside me, unless you’re working. I’ll sleep where you sleep.”

Tears pricked the back of his eyes again, and he blinked them back. “Good. I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you, too, Ian.”

The two of them were still kissing almost lazily when the pilot came over the speaker system to announce they’d be landing soon.


	64. Chapter 64

9 April 2012

Ian didn’t wake when Rose got up to go to the loo an hour before the alarm on Monday morning, but she still grabbed his t-shirt from the foot of the bed and pulled it on before she got up. There was a pleasant soreness between her legs - a feeling she hadn’t had in quite a long while - and she grinned to herself over its presence, reliving the last twenty-four hours. 

They were together now, properly a couple. She supposed that made her his girlfriend, although that felt like a juvenile term for what they were to each other. Ian Docherty seemed above the title ‘boyfriend’, somehow. That word was beneath him, but she wasn’t sure what else to call him - or them. She supposed she’d just follow his lead. Frankly, she didn’t care what he called her so long as he called her ‘his’.

He had hardly moved when she got back to the bed, still had his face buried in the pillow and she wondered for the umpteenth time how on earth he could breathe. Biting her lip and contemplating for a minute, she whipped off the t-shirt so she was nude again, then slid into bed as gently as she could, hoping not to disturb him. Still sleeping, he rolled over and curled around her, muttering something incomprehensible with ‘sweetheart’ in it, making her smile brightly. He kissed her bare shoulder and his scruff tickled, but she loved it. She loved _him_. 

She’d told Ian the day before that she intended to stay with him forever - and that was true. He felt the same way. But what did that mean for them? What did that mean for _Eleanor_? Were the three of them going to live together and be a family? Was it even fair for her to want such a thing? 

There were a whole lot of variables and things to think about. They had a lot of talking to do. Thankfully, they had several weeks before Eleanor arrived, so there was time. 

She didn’t realize that she’d fallen back asleep until the alarm went off. As he always did, Ian rolled away from her, grumbling, shut off the alarm, then rolled back to Rose. Usually, he’d spoon up against her and the two of them would cuddle and chat sleepily while they waited for the alarm to go off again. But this morning he stopped abruptly, his whole body tensing when he put his hand on the bare skin of her waist. Rose didn’t move for a second, just bit her lip on a smile when she felt his hand scoot a little higher and then a little lower, looking for clothes. He let out a little gasp when it fully sank in that the two of them were in bed together, naked, and she rolled herself over to her opposite side to face him.

“Hey there, handsome,” she smiled. 

“I didn’t dream it,” he marveled. “You’re really - I didn’t dream it.”

Rose let out a little giggle, then leaned forward to press her lips to his softly. She parted his lips but didn’t deepen the kiss, merely caught his lower lip between her teeth and nibbled for a second before she kissed him again. “No, Ian. You didn’t dream it.”

“You love me.”

“Damned right I do.”

He dove forward to kiss her smile, and Rose rejoiced at the feeling of his hands roaming all over her, almost like he was trying to see what he could get away with, looking for a boundary that didn’t exist. He could touch her anywhere he liked - she was entirely his. 

She returned the favor, dragging her fingertips through his messy hair, down his back and to his bum. His hips rolled and she slid her hand around to grip his diamond-hard cock, sliding up and down. Ian broke the kiss with a moan, laying his forehead on her shoulder while she pumped him, rutting into her fist shallowly. He groaned again when she swirled her thumb over the tip of his cock, and turned his head to kiss her neck, murmuring his devotion to her between every kiss. 

“I love you so much, sweetheart, I love you, you are so amazing, I love you…”

Despite the fact that his scruff tickled her neck, Rose tilted her head to expose more skin for him and threaded the fingers of her free hand through his hair holding his head in place. Her pumping of his cock sped up and he whimpered, then came back to her lips, kissing her wildly. Their tongues battled - a fight they both won - and Rose started to weigh the merits of rolling him onto his back and climbing on top of him.

“Wait, wait, we have to stop…”

Confused, Rose stopped what she was doing. Ian was breathing heavily, his forehead on her chest, and when he didn’t explain himself, she asked. “What’s… what’s wrong?”

“I have to call in to work.”

Half of her mouth quirked up. “You’re calling in today?”

He looked up at her then and his eyes were on fire. “Except to eat and use the loo, I don’t plan on letting you out of the fucking bed today. I’ve waited since last fall to be able to touch you like this... I’m going to keep you in my arms all day.”

Rose giggled. That was perfectly fine with her. 

Ian cupped her cheek and kissed her softly, letting his lips linger against hers. “I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you, too.”

He gave her another quick kiss, then said, “be right back,” and rolled over to the phone. Rose was quiet while he made the call, not sure what to expect when he hung up. Part of her wanted them to pick up where they’d left off. The way he’d felt on the zeppelin and again last night, stretching and filling her - more than she’d ever been stretched or filled before - was nothing less than amazing, and she absolutely wanted to feel that again. Soon. But the idea of being able to hold him and there be no guilt in it, no shame, no fear - that she could lie in his arms and wouldn’t have to hold back that she was in love with him, she could just tell him whenever it popped in her head - that was equally amazing and she wanted _that_ , too.

Chances were better than good that she’d get to do both today, she thought to herself with a grin. Why not just see how things played out?

Once he was done, he rolled back onto his back and pulled Rose over to lay on his shoulder. She situated herself as best she could, propping her belly against him and throwing one arm and leg across his body, sighing contentedly. He adjusted the duvet so that it was covering Rose to the shoulder, then turned and kissed her forehead. 

“You know the best thing about kissing your forehead?”

“What’s that?”

“I don’t have to anymore, unless I just want to. I can kiss you any-damn-where I like.”

Rose giggled. “You absolutely can. In fact, I encourage it.” He chuckled and she nuzzled closer to him. “I love you.”

He sighed happily. “I love you, too, sweetheart.”

She doodled a pattern on his chest. “Tell me more about this tattoo you were going to get.”

“Tattoo?”

“Yeah, with Fergus. When you chickened out.”

“I didn’t fucking chicken out!” he protested, raising his head from the pillow to glower at her, making her laugh. He laid his head back down, grumbling, but Rose could tell it was playful. “I knew I shouldn’t have introduced you to fucking Fergus.”

She giggled a little more, then rubbed a soothing circle on his bare skin. “Settle down. I just wanted to know what you were _going_ to get.”

“I honestly don’t remember. Probably the Scottish and Italian flags, if I had to guess.”

“Where were you going to get it?”

“Right here.” He took her hand and laid it over his heart. 

“How big was it going to be?”

Ian shrugged. “I don’t know, couple of inches. Size of my palm.” He turned his head to peer at her. “What’s with all the questions? Why are you so interested?”

It was her turn to shrug. “I just like thinking about it, is all. I’ve never had a bloke with a tattoo before.”

“Should I go get a tattoo?” he asked, and the question was joking but there was an edge to his voice that Rose didn’t miss. 

She giggled and twisted a little, turning her face up to him and pulling him down to meet her lips. There was no real urgency to the kiss, but she did her best to communicate to him just how deeply she loved him, how much she wanted him. When the kiss broke, in case she hadn’t done a thorough enough job, she stroked his cheek and looked deep into his blue-grey eyes, a faint smile on her kiss-swollen lips. 

“You don’t need to do anything, Ian Docherty. You’re perfect. Absolutely perfect, and I’m completely mad about you.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I love you so much, Ian.”

He studied her face for a few seconds, then pressed a hard kiss to her lips and laid back down. She settled into his shoulder comfortably.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear that, sweetheart.”

“What, that I love you?”

“Yeah.”

“Since last fall, you said.”

“Since the moment I laid eyes on you, walking down that aisle.”

“You’re joking,” she accused, raising her head to look at him and propping it on her elbow. 

“No, not joking, and I’m only exaggerating a touch. The second I clapped eyes on you, I was utterly enchanted. Besotted. And I tried not to want you, Rose. I tried so fucking hard to convince myself that wanting you was a bad idea. But I couldn’t help it. I was in love with you very, very soon after I met you. Long before we went to see Wicked.”

Rose couldn’t say the same. She’d been in a whirlwind of emotions about the Doctor at that time, then about being pregnant, and Ian had just been… there. Stable. Steady. Safe. It had taken her a while to recognize just what he was to her, how lucky she was, and that she couldn’t live without him. Once she’d figured it out, though...

“I lied to you once,” he said abruptly, interrupting her thoughts, then rushed to cover himself. “But only once!”

She grinned in spite of herself. “When did you lie?”

“When I asked you out the first time. I told you I had tickets to a show, but I didn’t. I had to buy some.”

She chuckled a little. “I think I can forgive you for that.” Then she sobered, thinking back on that time. 

“Sweetheart? What is it?”

Leave it to Ian to be able to sense that something was wrong with her. No one else knew her nearly as well. No one ever had. Ian knew her inside out and loved her anyway. It felt like a miracle. But to answer his question…

“I was just thinking about that day… when you took me to Hyde Park and you kissed me…”

“Don’t, sweetheart. Don’t worry about it.”

She ignored him. “I never meant to hurt you, Ian. I’m so sorry --”

“Stop, Rose,” he said, tilting her chin up to look at him. “You were completely justified to run away that day. I didn’t blame you then and I don’t blame you now. If I had known then what I know today…”

“What would you have done differently?”

Ian was silent for a minute, then sighed. “If I had known what you were going through, I certainly wouldn’t have kissed you. But I don’t think I’d have changed anything else. I don’t regret one single second with you, Rose. Not one.”

“No?”

“No. I’ve loved every minute we’ve spent together. It’s why I want all of the rest of my minutes to be spent with you.”

Her emotions made her voice waver when she fairly whispered, “I want to be with you, too.”

His answer was to just look at her, and the expression on his face was like he was trying to decide on something, maybe work up his courage. Just when she was about to ask what was on his mind, he seemed to come to a decision. 

“C’mon.” He rolled away from her and pulled on some pyjama trousers that were lying on a nearby chair, covering up his bare bum, much to her regret. She admired his shirtless form, the way the muscles moved under his the skin of his back, until he caught her at it. “What are you looking at?”

Rose smirked at him. “My gorgeous bloke.”

He smirked right back. “Oh, yeah?”

“Mhm. He’s running around with no shirt on. I think he wants me to drag him back into bed with me.”

Ian chuckled, low and dark, and leaned across the bed to kiss her. She could tell he was considering it. But he broke away and said, “Later, sweetheart. I promise. Right now, I want to show you something.”

“Alright,” she agreed, more than a little confused but rolling to her side of the bed anyway. “I’ve got to dig out some clothes.”

“No, you don’t have to get dressed-dressed. Slip on my t-shirt. We’re only going ten feet.”

Even more mystified, Rose did as he’d suggested and pulled on his shirt. When she got to her feet, he stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, laying his hands on her bump. 

“I don’t think I could ever tell you what seeing you in my clothes does to me,” he growled against the skin of her neck, placing kisses there. 

Rose giggled, leaning back against him. “You’ve got me wondering if you had an ulterior motive for suggesting I put it on, now.”

“Maybe I did,” he murmured and Rose shivered, gooseflesh breaking out all over her. Eleanor kicked right under Ian’s hand. 

“I think somebody’s jealous of all the attention I’m getting,” she grinned. 

He chuckled, then moved around to Rose’s front, squatting down so his face was level with her bump. “Hey, Little Face. Your mum and I have been having some grownup time. I needed to try to show your mum how much I love her, yeah? You and your mummy...you’re my whole world. I love you, sweet baby.” He pressed a kiss to her bump, overtop of where Eleanor was squirming, and Rose wiped away the tear that spilled hurriedly while Ian grinned up at her from the floor. 

When he got to his feet, he cupped her cheek and kissed her softly. Rose tried to deepen it, suddenly wanting to get back in the bed, but he broke away before she could. 

“C’mon, sweetheart. I really did want to show you something.”

He took her hand and pulled her a little, leading her out of the room. She had no idea where they were going, but he stopped at the door to the bedroom closest to his. He paused with his hand on the doorknob, and Rose could tell he was nervous. 

“Are you alright?”

Ian didn’t answer, he just opened the door to the bedroom and stepped inside, still leading Rose by the hand. She gasped, overwhelmed, as she took everything in. 

In one corner, there was a pile of familiar packages containing the same pink rugs and curtains that Rose herself had bought, which were piled in the corner of her second bedroom at the cottage. A large, clear plastic bag held the rosebud crib set that she and Ian had picked out together. There were a couple boxes of disposable nappies beside a box labeled ‘changing table - white’. Two more large boxes labeled ‘cot’ and ‘bureau’ leaned against the wall. A baby swing, bouncy seat and playmat were all in their boxes, leaned up against another wall. 

Rose stepped further into the room to see that there were paint samples taped to the green wall in various shades of pink. When she turned, the closet caught her eye. She walked over to find several outfits, pyjamas, and newborn gowns hanging there. 

She turned to look at him. “How long have you been doing this?”

“About a month,” he confessed. “Do you like it?”

It was unbelievable, the idea that he would do all of this for her, for her daughter. Basically everything she would need for Eleanor was right here in this room. He’d obviously spent hours shopping, and tons of money. But she wasn’t able to articulate everything she was thinking, so she just nodded. “I love it.”

“Sweetheart,” he started, coming over to her and taking both her hands in his. “How about instead of going back to the cottage after Eleanor's born, you come here? As you can see I've got the nursery already started. It wouldn’t need much."

"What are you saying, Ian?"

"I'm asking you and Eleanor to come live with me."

She stared at him blankly, her mind whirling. “You’re serious.”

“As a heart attack. I told you I wanted to live the rest of my life with you, Rose. I wasn’t bullshitting you. I meant it.”

Living with him, the three of them together… she wanted it so badly. She and Eleanor and Ian, sharing a life. Everything about that idea was wonderful. 

Tears spilled onto her cheeks and Ian took a step forward, wiping them away. “Are these happy tears?” Rose nodded, and another tear fell. “I tell you what. Just to make sure everybody’s on board…” He bent over and placed his hand on her belly, speaking to it. “Hey there, Little Face. Me again. What would you think about you and Mummy coming to live with me? I’ve got a room for you, I’m going to make it as pretty as I can. And when you get bigger, I’ll put a swingset in the rear garden.”

Rose let out a breathy laugh, then laughed out loud when Eleanor kicked enthusiastically. 

“Well, you kinda have to move in with me now, since Eleanor is in favor,” he said, standing up, grinning brightly. Then he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I think it was the swingset that convinced her.”

“Are you sure, Ian? Are you absolutely sure? Bringing a woman and baby to live with you will --”

He didn’t let her finish, just covered her lips with his, threading his fingers in the hair behind her ear, his other arm going around her waist. She slid her arms around him, spreading her hands over the skin of his back and pulling him as close as she could, opening for him when his tongue traced the seam of her lips. They kissed unhurriedly for a while, tongues and hands exploring, until he pulled away, smiling.

“You’re daft, do you know that?” he said between tiny kisses to her lips.

“Why am I daft?”

“Because there is nothing I want more - in this universe or any fucking other - than to spend my life with you and Eleanor. That’s all I need. Just you and this baby.” He lay his hand on her bump, stroking it with his thumb. “Say yes, sweetheart. Come and live with me. I swear to Christ I’ll do everything in my power to make you happy and to take care of Eleanor.”

Tears were coursing down Rose’s face, and she only made a half-hearted effort to wipe one cheek before she nodded, smiling.

Ian’s face lit up, shining brighter than any star Rose had ever seen. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He kissed her again, hard and celebratory, then pulled her into a hug. “I love you, sweetheart. I love you so much. Thank you.”

She wasn’t entirely sure what he was thanking her for, but didn’t get a chance to find out before he turned on his heel and tugged her behind him. “C’mon. I promised to keep you in fucking bed today.”

Rose giggled. “Taking me back to your bedroom?”

Just outside the door to the bedroom, he stopped and turned around, cupping her face and kissing her softly. “This house and everything in it belong to you, too, now. This is your home, sweetheart. It’s not my bedroom. It’s _our_ bedroom.”

 _Their_ bedroom. Rose liked the sound of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that the slow burn is over, starting today, we will be going back to our original posting schedule of Mondays and Thursdays. Thank you so much for reading and being part of this story!


	65. Chapter 65

10 April 2012  
Week Thirty-Three 

Ian was late to work on Tuesday morning, but really, he could only be blamed so much. He’d kept Rose up late the night before, snogging on the sofa like teenagers instead of watching telly, and then taking her to bed and making slow, sweet love to her until well past midnight. This morning, when the alarm had gone off, he’d started playfully harassing her, dodging when she swung at him with her pillow and laughing when he kissed her until she grinned at him - then told him to go the hell away. By the time he finished his shower she was up and moving around, toasting a bagel and pouring tea for each of them. But he couldn’t keep his hands off of her and ended up leaving the house ten minutes later than he should have, kissing her hurriedly one last time before telling her he’d see her at her appointment with Ross that day - and that he loved her.

The fact that he was allowed to say that out loud felt like a miracle. The fact that she said it back was absolutely unbelievable.

He’d made up a couple of minutes on his way to the office, but was still six minutes late when he walked in, nodding to the nurses he passed on his way to his office. He’d just pulled off his jacket and was grabbing his lab coat from the rack when Clara poked her head in. 

“You alright?”

“I’m always alright,” he told her, shoving his arms in his sleeves. “Why?”

“You just randomly took a day off. That’s not like you. The only other day off you’ve taken in the last three years that wasn’t a holiday was when Rose was sick a couple of weeks ago.”

He chuckled. “Rose is not sick. She’s perfectly healthy.”

Clara’s eyebrows went up. “Have you been doing _physical examinations_ , Doctor?”

“I have no idea what you’re inferring.”

She gave a disbelieving laugh and pulled out her mobile, shaking her head and starting to type. 

“What are you doing?”

“I’m texting Bill. She owes me twenty quid.”

“For what?”

“She said that you and Rose wouldn’t get your head out of your arses until after Eleanor was born. I disagreed and said you wouldn’t be able to hold out that long. Clearly, I won the bet.”

Ian threw his head back and laughed. “Fuck off, Clara.”

“Oh, wow. If I had known having a girlfriend would be this good for you, I’d have pushed you to date years ago.”

He shook his head. “Wouldn’t have worked if the woman wasn’t Rose. Now get the fuck out of here. We have a full day.”

Ian saw patients steadily through the morning, and more employees than just Clara remarked on his good mood. He couldn’t be bothered to give anyone more than a smile, though, he was entirely too happy. After more than half a year of pining for Rose Tyler, she was his. She loved him and was moving into his house. _Nothing_ could dampen his mood. 

Rose arrived for her appointment right on time, and he fairly ran to the front to get her. He opened the door, called her name, and felt his entire body lighten when she rounded the corner, belly-first, smiling at him. He managed to keep his hands to himself until he had her in the corridor, then he pulled her to a stop. He scanned the area quickly and, finding it deserted, bent down and kissed her thoroughly. When he pulled away, she swayed a little on her feet and Ian smirked.

“What was that for?” she asked, smiling. 

“I missed you.”

“You’ve only been gone four hours, Ian.”

“Too long.” He took her hand and laced their fingers, not really caring if anyone saw them holding hands, and they walked together to the exam room. 

Christine’s nurse, Brandi, left Rose with instructions to change into a gown, and he was sure he caused tongues to wag when he not only didn’t leave the room right away, he knelt down beside her to help her pull off her boots. The nurse didn’t say anything, she just left, and Ian was a perfect gentleman while he helped Rose get into the gown and onto the exam table. Ian took the seat next to Rose and her hand, kissing each individual finger, certain that no man had ever loved any woman the way he loved the woman sitting beside him. 

There were two short knocks on the door and Christine let herself in. She didn’t bat an eye at Rose’s hand in Ian’s anymore, and barely looked over his way. Rose was asked the standard questions she always got about her diet and how she was feeling, how her lower back pain was. Ian told Christine that he thought she was having Braxton Hicks, as well as typical low back pain from carrying Eleanor. She made a note in the chart. 

No matter how many times he’d brought the doppler to Rose’s cottage and the two of them had listened to Eleanor’s heartbeat, the sound of it never failed to make him feel warm inside. It was no different today, and he had to fight the impulse to kiss Rose when she turned to him, beaming. 

“Alright, Rose,” Christine started. “Everything looks absolutely perfect. Now, you may have wondered why I had you put on a gown today.” Rose nodded. “Typically, I wouldn’t start checking for dilation or effacement yet, but given your… special circumstances,” Ian struggled to maintain a straight face when she glanced at him, “I’d like to start a few weeks early. From now on, I’ll be doing a pelvic exam at every visit to make sure everything’s alright. Okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” Rose answered, sounding uncertain. 

Christine turned to lay down the chart and doppler, then pulled a pair of gloves from the dispenser on the wall. She froze when she turned around and saw Ian. 

“Docherty?” She nodded her head towards the door in a clear message for him to get out. 

Ian snorted and got to his feet, turning his back to Christine and bending down a little to talk to Rose. He murmured to her, encouragement and soothing nonsense, watching her face screw up in mild discomfort when Christine did the exam. Soon, though, it was over, and he kissed her forehead, praising her and her bravery, then he helped her sit up. 

“Looks good, Rose,” Christine said. “You’re not dilated, and you’re only thinning out a little. Which is normal at this stage,” she hastened to soothe Rose. “Everything’s going fine. Do you have any questions for me?” Rose shook her head and Christine smiled, then patted Rose on the shoulder. “I’ll see you next week, then.”

As soon as the door closed behind Christine, Ian got to his feet and helped Rose get to hers. She smiled up at him, clearly happy. 

“I love you,” she said, and he felt like he could burst into song. Instead, he dipped his head and kissed her, his lips gliding against hers softly. 

“I love you, too,” he murmured. 

Her smile widened. “Good.”

He planted another quick kiss to her lips, then straightened. “C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s get you dressed and go to lunch.”

~*~O~*~

Ian wasn’t sure he’d ever been so excited about the end of a work day. 

Over lunch, they’d discussed her moving into his ( _their_ ) house, and Rose had indicated that she was ready to move in whenever he was ready for her. The only thing he had to do to prepare was shuffle some clothes around in the bedroom so there was space in the drawers, and that wouldn’t take long. They agreed to take a bag full of clothes over that night after pool, then go back for another bag of clothes the next day. She had very few personal effects that needed to be moved, and Ian already had everything for the baby. 

It looked like for Ian’s birthday, he was going to have Rose moved in with him. Best birthday gift ever. 

Rose had gone back to the cottage after lunch to pack up a few things, so just like every other Tuesday for the last few months, he went straight from work to the mansion. Unlike every time before, however, he let himself into the cottage and kissed his giggling girlfriend, barely restraining from dragging her to the bedroom and making love to her for hours. His restraint wasn’t helped by her small hands untucking his oxford and sliding over the skin of his back, or by her whispering absolutely _filthy_ things in the ear she was also nibbling. But his instinct to protect her and protect his Little Face was too strong, and he managed to pull away and tell her he’d do all of that and more - later. For now, she needed to eat. She pouted a little, batting her big brown eyes up at him in the way that nearly always made him give in, but he kissed her until she whimpered and sagged against him, then smirked when she seemed disoriented when he broke the kiss. 

It occurred to Ian when they left the cottage together to walk to the mansion for dinner with her parents before pool night - the way they always did - that it was the damndest thing. Everything had changed; they were a couple now, she was moving in with him and they would be raising Eleanor together. But it didn’t _feel_ any different when she held his hand or snuggled up with him. She really had loved him for months, and in that way, everything was staying precisely the same. 

They took their time, strolling along, enjoying the spring evening and each other. Neither felt any particular hurry to get to the mansion and be away from the other. Eleanor wiggled and Ian bent over to speak to her, still holding one of Rose’s hands and stroking her belly with the other. He was delighted when she responded to him, as she so often did, and he placed a sweet little kiss on Rose’s tummy before he stood back up, giving Rose a cheeky smile.

Ian hadn’t really been afraid of anyone’s opinion in years, but he found himself in the unusual circumstance of giving a damn what other people thought about him right now - at least, one person. He couldn’t give less of a fuck what the world at large thought about the fact that he was with Rose. He was madly in love with her, she loved him, too, (although that idea still seemed so far fetched and hard to believe), and the two of them were together. Happy. 

...But he _was_ a little anxious about telling his best friend that he was in relationship with his daughter. He didn’t expect any dramatics, realistically, and knew that their relationship would get back to normal - or find a _new_ normal - soon, but he also knew how Pete felt about him being in love with Rose. It left a pit in his stomach to think about all the ways that _could_ go wrong, and the tension they could have to work around until everyone accepted everyone’s role in each other’s lives. 

He was startled when Pete met them in the foyer, and he could tell by Rose’s squeeze of his hand that she was taken by surprise, too. 

“Oh, good,” Pete said, smiling grandly, but Ian knew his best friend well. Something was off. “I had wondered if you two were going to join us for dinner tonight before pool. Rose, your mother’s in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on dinner. Ian and I will join you at the table soon. I need Ian for just a few minutes.”

That pit in his stomach was back, even stronger now because he feared the news may be from Torchwood, and it kept him from stooping and kissing her when she looked up at him. He smiled down at her, slid his hand along her belly, making her smile back at him, and winked. “Go on. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

“Alright,” she agreed, and again, the urge to kiss her was nearly overpowering. 

“We’re right behind you, Rose,” Pete said reassuringly. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

She still sounded uncertain when she said, “Okay.”

He watched her go until she was out of sight, then turned to Pete. “What?”

“Come into my study?”

Ian’s heart was thudding in his chest. What if something had happened over the weekend? What if the walls had opened? What if - he couldn’t stand to think about it. 

Pete closed the door the study behind Ian and walked around to his desk. Ian went to stand in front of it, feeling as if he was about to jump out of his skin. “Well? What the fuck is it?”

His best friend was silent when he pulled out his mobile, scrolled a bit, then plopped it on the table, already open to the messenger app. Ian’s heart began to race when Pete clicked on Fergus’ name and scrolled up through the chat a bit before offering the screen to him.

~Graham Fitzgerald: _hey, Ringo! just left Ian and Rose at the airport_  
~Graham Fitzgerald: _looks as if you and I may be family before long_  
~Pete Tyler: _Oh?_  
~Graham Fitzgerald: _aye. finally knocked some sense into the bampot. they could hardly keep their hands off each other._

Ian was trying to figure out what to say - his fucking turncoat of a cousin would be getting an earful later - but Pete picked up the mobile, pressed a couple of buttons and scrolled a bit more, then laid it back down on the desk. On the screen was an invoice from a cleaning service - for cleaning Pete’s private zeppelin. There was an itemized list of what the cleaning service had done - among which was removing soiled sheets and making the bed. 

“They’re very thorough,” Pete said in a dry tone. “Scroll down.”

Ian did so. A tiny photograph of the disaster of a bed he and Rose had left behind was at the bottom of the list. 

“Before and after pictures. Looks like you had a good time on the way back from Glasgow.”

The blood had long ago left Ian’s face and he looked up at the other man with wide eyes. “Pete --”

“Maybe I should thank you. Those sheets haven’t needed to be changed in months.”

“Look, I --”

Pete held up a hand. “Is it safe?”

“Is what safe?”

“Is it safe to be doing… _that_ while she’s pregnant?”

Ian straightened, narrowing his eyes, trying not to be offended. “You think I would endanger her or Eleanor?”

“I think you’ve waited a long time to be with her, Ian, and sometimes want can override sense.”

That was very true, but not the case here. “It’s safe. I would never hurt her.”

Pete sighed and rubbed his forehead. “This is a thing that’s happening now? You two. You’re --”

“We’re together. I’ve asked her to move in with me and she’s said yes. We’ll be moving her in over this next week.”

“What about Eleanor?”

“What about her? I’m going to help raise her in my home. I told you a long time ago that if Rose would have me, I’d have a daughter.”

Pete leveled a gaze at Ian, but Ian didn’t squirm. The cards were on the table now, there was nothing to hide anymore. 

“I recall asking you in that conversation if you loved my daughter and you wouldn’t answer.”

“I do, and I did then. I love her. I love her with every breath and I’ll love her until my _last_ breath - and beyond. Eleanor, too. She’s everything to me, Pete.”

“Are you going to marry her?”

_Yes._

“We haven’t gotten that far. All of this only happened Sunday morning. But I want to, if she’ll have me.”

Pete sighed and scrubbed his hands over his head. “Okay. Truth be told, I’ve suspected this was coming since Christmas. Just don’t… you know... in a bed I sleep in, alright? Leave her alone those times.”

Ian would rather die than tell Pete that his daughter had been the instigator behind the fooling around on the zeppelin, so he just nodded. “We won’t do that again.”

“Alright then. Let’s go to dinner.”

~*~O~*~

Rose stepped into the kitchen, nervous but excited about the news she had to share with her mum. As much as Jackie had been pushing her in Ian’s direction, she was likely to be thrilled. 

“Mum?”

“In here!”

She followed the sound of her mother’s voice until she got to the informal dining room where Jackie was setting the table. Rose accepted a hug from her mother, then didn’t hesitate before she was helping, just as she had when she was a kid. 

“How was Glasgow?” 

“Great! Ian’s family is really nice.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. We’re going to take Eleanor up when she’s old enough.”

Jackie raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Going to visit his family again, huh? Be careful, Rose. It’s going to get harder and harder to deny that the two of you are a couple if you keep visiting his family and whatnot.”

“We’re not trying to deny it. Not anymore,” Rose said, then looked up at her mother, biting her lip. 

Jackie looked surprised. “You and Ian…?”

“We’re together now.” 

“Well thank God for that,” Jackie said, opening her arms and hugging her daughter. “When did this happen?”

“Sunday morning, before we left Glasgow.” 

Jackie shook her head as if disbelieving. “My daughter and the UPS man…”

Rose snorted a laugh. “Your daughter and _who_?”

“The UPS man.”

“Why are you calling Ian ‘the UPS man’?”

Her mother’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “Because that looks like one hell of a package he’s lugging around.”

Rose thought she may die and her eyes may bug out of her head. “ _Mum!_ ”

“What?” Jackie threw out innocently, arranging potatoes on a plate.

“That’s my _bloke_.”

“He’s also my age and handsome as sin, Rose. My God, do you think women just _die_ when they hit their forties? I love your father, but I’m not blind.”

She rubbed her forehead, gaping and laughing, trying to erase the knowledge that her mum had been checking out her boyfriend. 

“So...?” Jackie prompted.

“So what?”

“So…? How is it?”

“EW! MUM! I am _not_ talking about my sex life with you.”

“Awh, come on. You won’t even give me a little detail?” She raised a pair of tongs and held them open a couple inches apart to indicate a small amount, then smirked and spread them wide. “Maybe a not-so-little detail?”

“I can’t believe I’m related to you.”

Jackie chuckled, pleased with herself, and Rose did her best to get blood flowing away from her face. “So this happened in Glasgow, eh?”

“Yes. Then almost exactly twenty-four hours later, he asked me to move in with him.”

Jackie’s smile fell. “You didn’t say yes, did you?”

Rose scoffed. “Of course I did! What possible reason would I have for saying no?”

“Isn’t this a little soon?”

Rose took a deep breath. “Mum, we’ve practically been a couple for months. You’ve been teasing me about it since last fall. True, we’ve only _technically_ been together for a couple of days, but both of us know. We _know_ , Mum.”

“You’re leaving me again.”

Rose thought her Mum’s eyes may be sparkling, but she couldn’t see through her own tears. 

“I’m almost twenty-five. It’s the natural order of things. Fall in love, leave home, start a family. I want to be with Ian.”

“But sweetheart…it’s too soon!”

Fat, hormonal tears of frustration spilled over onto Rose’s cheeks and she cried. This hadn’t gone the way she’d expected it to go. She’d thought her mum, of all people, would be happy for her! She buried her face in her hands and wept. 

“What’s going on in here?” Pete demanded, and before Rose could raise her head to find Ian, he was putting his arms around her. She wrapped her arms around his chest and sobbed into his shirt while he shushed her. 

“She wants to move in with Ian!” Jackie cried. 

“I know.”

“I’m trying to talk her out of it.”

“Don’t,” Pete said calmly. “I think it’s a good idea.”

Rose raised her head from Ian’s chest to stare at Pete. Jackie was doing the same thing - raising her head from Pete’s chest to stare at him. “You what?”

“They’re in love, Jacks. They’re happy and they want to be together. Who are we to tell them they can’t?”

“I’m her _mother_ , that’s who!”

“Jackie,” Ian said in as gentle a tone she’d ever heard with someone other than her, “I’m not taking Rose away from you. Henry is still going to be her driver and he can bring her over anytime she wants. Plus, I’m sure we’ll be over here for dinner and whatnot. At least every Tuesday, yeah? And you’ll always be welcome in our home.”

Pete gathered Jackie close again, murmuring to her, but Rose looked up at Ian adoringly. He looked down at her and bent to place a kiss on her nose. “Whenever you want to come over here, sweetheart, you just have to say the word, alright? Henry or I will get you here.”

“I love you,” she whispered, her eyes wet again. 

He smiled a little, then kissed her softly. “I love you, too, sweetheart.”

“Oh, Rose,” Jackie cried, then broke away from Pete to go to her daughter with open arms. Rose let go of Ian and met her partway. 

“I love you, Mum.”

“I love you, Rose. I just don’t want to lose you.”

“You’re not going to lose me, Mum. I’m going to be ten minutes away.”

Jackie hugged her tighter. “I got used to the idea of having my baby and grandbaby right underfoot.”

“I won’t be far.”

Her mother cupped her face and looked in her eyes. “My baby. All grown up. When are you moving?”

“This week.”

Jackie wiped her face and cut a look at Ian. “Don’t waste time, do you?”

“There’s a baby to get ready for,” Ian explained. “We don’t have time to waste.”

Rose was surprised - but not as surprised as Ian - when Jackie let go of Rose and wrapped Ian up in a hug. Ian’s eyes were wide and his arms stuck out of Jackie’s sides awkwardly, but eventually he surrendered to the hug. 

“You take care of my baby,” she charged him. 

“Rose is going to want for nothing. I fucking swear.”

Jackie sniffled, then stepped back and patted Ian’s cheek. “You see that she doesn’t. Now,” she said, spinning towards the table, emotional outburst apparently forgotten. “I tried a new recipe tonight. There are no mushrooms,” she assured Ian as she went towards the kitchen door. “You lot make yourselves comfortable, I’ll be back with it in just a moment.”

Ian just sort of stared after her, and Rose giggled. “You alright?”

“That was quite the fucking turnaround.”

“Better get used to it,” Pete remarked in a dry tone, going to his chair.


	66. Chapter 66

14 April 2012

Ian cursed a little as he walked up to the mansion to pick up Rose. His fucking tuxedo was tight. Not uncomfortably so, but it was noticeable - at least to him. He’d been doing so much eating with Rose - lunches that he would have skipped because he was too busy, fantastic dinners at the mansion with the Tylers, more takeaway than he liked to fucking think about - that he’d gained nearly ten pounds over the course of Rose’s pregnancy. When he was younger he’d have run it off in a couple of months with no problem, but he hadn’t run in several years and was fairly certain he’d fucking collapse if he tried now. 

He opened the door and let himself in, as always, and started poking his head in the rooms on the ground floor. There was a maid in one of the formal parlors who smiled politely when he asked her to go let Rose know he was here. He couldn’t help but smirk a little - it was quite the change up, and he was grateful for it. While he waited, he wandered into the lounge. There were scattered photos on the once-bare mantel, and he was sure that in a very short time there would be pictures of Eleanor absolutely everywhere. The thought made him smile. 

Ian heard a cleared throat from the foyer and went to look. What he saw took his breath away. Rose stood at the top of the stairs in an off-white evening gown, empire waist, the chiffon of the skirt draping her bump prettily. She looked for all the world like a bride, and not for the first time, he imagined himself slipping a ring onto her finger and pledging the rest of his life to her. The force of his desire for that was palpable. 

Her smile was directed at him and it lit the room more effectively than a thousand lamps. The night he’d met her, all those months ago, he recalled with perfect clarity thinking that a bright, genuine smile from her might knock a man on his arse. He’d been right, and called himself the luckiest bastard alive that she was knocking him on his arse. She loved him, loved _him_. He still couldn’t believe his luck.

Rose started descending the stairs, one hand on the rail and the other holding a clutch, and he tensed, terrified she may fall. She did fine, however, and he relaxed when her feet finally touched the floor. She walked over to him, still beaming, and stopped a few inches away. That wasn’t at all acceptable, so he pulled her to him and kissed her soundly, because he absolutely _had_ to taste her in that moment. 

He didn’t release her when he broke the kiss, instead he held her close to him and relished the way she blinked several times like she was getting her bearings, then smiled up at him. 

“Well, I didn’t expect that response,” she grinned.

“You should have. As fucking gorgeous as you look? I’m tempted to drag you off to the cottage right now. Fuck this banquet.”

“You haven’t even gotten a good look at the dress yet.”

“I’m not sure I can handle it, frankly.”

Rose giggled and pushed away from him gently, stepping back so he could see her. He was dumbstruck, taking her in, memorizing the way she looked in that moment. Her skin glowed and her eyes sparkled, her lips were slightly swollen from his kiss, her smile made his heart skip a beat, and he was sure that he’d float away. 

“Do I look alright?” 

She turned in a circle, her hands raised, palms up, letting him get a better view of her dress. A deep V neckline highlighted her cleavage, and joined behind her neck in a halter. A decorative band of rhinestones went around her waist and over her bump, and he sucked in a breath when he saw that her dress dipped low on her back - and she wore no bra. Off-white chiffon touched the floor, and the little sweep train did nothing to dispel his daydreams of her as his bride. She wore a bracelet with glittering stones and the matching earrings were simple but eye-catching. Jackie had, once again, done a remarkable job styling Rose’s hair, and it was in some sort of elegant updo that was simply stunning. 

Rose finished her spin in front of him and he looked at her blankly, not exactly sure what to say, not sure what he _could_ say to describe what he thought, how he felt. He was a little afraid that if he opened his mouth he’d propose to her on the spot. 

She cocked a brow at him. “You’re not saying anything. Either that’s a very good thing or a very bad thing.”

“Very good,” he croaked out. “You look… I honestly don’t have the words, sweetheart. You’ve stolen them away. You’re too beautiful - anything I say wouldn’t be adequate.”

Rose flushed and ducked her head, smiling and biting her lip, then went up on her tiptoes and kissed him softly. One of his hands made a large circle on the bare expanse of her back, and he willed his cock to behave itself.

“Happy birthday, Ian.”

“Thank you, sweetheart. It’s certainly happier now that you’re here.”

“I was smart this time,” she said, and pulled up her skirt a little bit. Ian looked down to see a pair of ivory flats that looked much more comfortable than the heels she’d worn to the Vitex Gala. “The soles of these are a lot softer than most other dress shoes, so they shouldn’t hurt my feet.”

“They look lovely,” he told her, at a loss for what else to say.

“They do? I can’t see them.” She made a show of trying to peer over her bump and Ian laughed. 

“You’re silly.”

Her tongue went between her teeth and she looked pleased with herself. “I try.”

“Are you ready to go?” 

Her face clouded. “Are you _sure_ about this? I feel like I look ridiculous.”

“You don’t. You look fucking fantastic, Rose. You’re going to be the belle of the ball. Easily the most beautiful woman there.”

Rose flushed. “You’re just saying that.”

He brought his hand up to cup her cheek, running his thumb along her lower lip. “I’m not just saying anything, Rose Tyler. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known, and I love you.”

Her eyes looked damp and her lip quibbled. “I love you, too.”

“Are you ready?” he asked, trying to get himself in line. If he spent too long gazing into her brown eyes, he really might take her to bed and never leave. 

She nodded up at him. “Yeah. I’m ready.”

Ian leaned forward and kissed her forehead, just happy that she was with him, grateful for every minute he got to spend with her, loving every inch of her. He took her hand when he straightened. “Let’s go, sweetheart.”

~*~O~*~

Ian pulled up to the valet parking and was out of the car in a flash. Watching over her shoulder, Rose saw him toss his keys to the valet then come to open the door for her with a bright smile. She couldn’t help but smile back, and took his offered hand to get out of the SUV.

The SUV was usually easier to get in and out of, but the fact that she was in a floor-length evening gown was complicating matters a bit. She tried not to grunt with exertion or blow out large breaths while she shifted herself around so she could get out. Ian was patient with her, moving the fabric out of the way of her feet when needed. After what felt like an eternity - but was in actuality only a few seconds - she was standing on the pavement outside the venue smiling up at him. He cupped her cheek, kissing her gently. As it so often did, his kiss made her knees feel weak and she gripped his arm. 

“Ian,” she murmured when he pulled away. “Everyone’s going to see.”

“Let them see. I want everyone to know that I’m the luckiest bastard that ever drew breath, and I’m here with the most beautiful woman in the world.”

Rose giggled a little, and he dipped his head for one more quick kiss. “Ready, sweetheart?”

She nodded. “I’m ready.”

He took her hand and looped it through his elbow, then walked up the pavement towards the front of the building. Patting her hand to get her attention, he nodded his head at nothing. “Look, Rose. No paparazzi this time.”

Rose giggled. “Drat. And I dressed up, just for them.”

He chuckled and leaned over to kiss her hair. She beamed up at him when he stood straight again, taking advantage of the fact that he was looking towards the door to just admire him. He’d shaved for the event tonight and she missed the scruff, but heavens knew that she found him just as attractive without it - and she looked forward to feeling his clean-shaven face against her skin later. He must have spotted her looking at him because he turned his head, smirked at her a little and winked. She barely refrained from giggling like a teenager. 

They got to the door and Ian gave his name to the attendant standing there. “Dr. Ian Docherty, plus one.”

Rose felt a little pang at the words ‘plus one’, thinking of the madman in the box who’d whisked her away and took her to witness the destruction of her world - and then gave her more worlds than she could ever count. But that wasn’t her life anymore. She was with Ian now. And honestly, she didn’t want to be anywhere other than by his side ever again. 

Ian finished talking to the attendant and they walked into the lobby. People dressed similarly to them milled around, some with flutes of champagne, and Ian inclined his head in greeting at a couple of people he recognized. So far as she could tell, she was the youngest person present - and the only one who was pregnant.

“You alright?” he asked in a low voice, leaning towards her a bit.

“I’m nervous,” she confessed. 

“About what?”

“I’m afraid I’ll embarrass you.”

He chuckled, pulling Rose to a stop, then taking her hand and pulling it to his lips for a little kiss. “You could never embarrass me, sweetheart. Never. I’m so fucking proud to be here with you, I can barely contain myself.”

“Proud? Of me?”

“Of you,” he confirmed, bending to lay a soft, chaste kiss on her lips. “Always.”

Rose felt tears pricking the backs of her eyes while she smiled up at him, but willed them away. It wouldn’t do for her to ruin her mascara and look like a raccoon all night. 

“Docherty!”

She started, having been broken from her thoughts suddenly, but Ian seemed at ease. He lowered their joined hands but didn’t let go, and turned to face the man who had spoken to him.

The two men shook hands. “Good to see you, Cooper.” 

Cooper turned his smile towards Rose. “I didn't know you were married, Docherty."

Rose panicked a little, internally, and hoped her smile didn’t falter. 

"Rose, this is Dr. Ben Cooper. He serves on the Board with me. Ben, this is Rose," Ian said easily, then laid his hand on her bump. “And this is Eleanor.”

She managed to extend her hand to Cooper. “A pleasure.”

Cooper turned her hand and kissed the back of it. “It’s lovely to meet you, Mrs. Docherty. And you too, Eleanor,” he said smiling, inclining his head towards her bump. 

Rose heard Ian chuckle, then the two men started talking. She let her mind wander while they discussed matters that were far over her head. 

She and Ian had both always taken being mistaken for a couple in stride. But to her knowledge, no one had ever mistaken them for being _married_ to one another. She’d never really considered marriage before, not seriously. With Mickey, she’d known she didn’t want to be tied down to that beans-on-toast life, and with the Doctor… well, he’d have rather regenerated over and over again for the rest of his lives than ever lock himself down in such a domestic situation, so she’d never really given it any thought. The Doctor was chaos: beautiful, amazing chaos, but he was _not_ a home-and-hearth kind of bloke. She’d accepted that, and accepted that her life would never be entirely stable.

But now… Here she was, living a linear life, and by some miracle she’d found Ian. He had been her rock, her safe harbor. He watched over her, he kept her safe. She knew that if she called for him, he’d come running. He was brilliant and handsome, and for some reason she couldn’t understand, he loved her. Which was wonderful, because she loved him more than she could say. And honestly, she was happier than she could ever remember being. 

But would she _want_ to be married to Ian? The decision took no more than a second. Yes. She absolutely _did_ want to be married to Ian.

However, she couldn’t help but wonder if maybe she was putting too much thought into what he’d said (or not said). Maybe Ian didn’t want any of that at all. Maybe he was perfectly happy just having Rose live with him. But if he didn't, wouldn't he have corrected his friend?

"Ian..." she said in a hushed tone when Ben left.

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

"He thought I was your wife."

"Yeah?"

He sounded curious and maybe a touch intrigued, even hopeful. She opened her mouth to speak and was interrupted by someone calling “Ian Docherty!”

Ian turned away from her to look at the couple approaching them, a stately older man in a tuxedo and his handsome wife with her hand slipped into his arm. Both were smiling and looked friendly. Rose looked up at Ian when he squeezed her hand, and he winked before he spoke. 

“Dr. Bowen, Mrs. Bowen. Good to see you.”

“You too, Dr. Docherty. This your wife?”

Rose felt a jolt - and this time she recognized it as the same jolt she’d felt when he kissed her at New Year’s. She knew now that it was desire, longing. _She wanted to be married to Ian._

“This is Rose,” Ian introduced her again without confirming or denying his marital status. “Rose, this is Dr. Frank Bowen and his wife, Mary.” Rose shook both of their hands with a smile, and Ian went on. “Dr. Bowen has been an OB/GYN at The Women’s Hospital since the late seventies. He’ll be receiving a Lifetime Achievement Award tonight.”

“Congratulations,” Rose smiled.

“Seems like congratulations are owed to the two of you!” Dr. Bowen said with a pointed look at Rose’s belly.

Ian laid his hand gently over the baby and smiled, so obviously proud that it made Rose’s heart twist in her chest. “This is Eleanor.”

“A girl, eh?”

“Yes, our little girl. She’s due next month, the twenty-ninth.”

Rose didn’t miss the word ‘our’ or the implications it carried. It was what she had wanted all along, and Rose was sure that if Ian wasn’t holding onto her, she’d float away.

“You’ll enjoy having a girl, Docherty,” Dr. Bowen said with a big smile. “There’s nothing like getting a big hug from daddy’s girl when you get home from a long day.”

Something in Ian’s posture changed almost imperceptibly. His smile never faltered, though, and Rose stepped in, hoping to reassure him. “I certainly hope she’ll be mummy’s girl, as well as daddy’s.”

“Don’t worry, dear,” Mary Bowen said with a smile. “They come running to mummy a gracious plenty. What you really have to watch out for is her daddy spoiling her rotten.”

Rose laughed. “Ian has already been more than a bit ridiculous over his baby girl, and she’s not even here yet. I’m afraid I may be in trouble.”

The Bowens laughed, Ian chuckled and squeezed her hand, and when she looked up at him, he was smiling at his friends but there was something in his eyes that she couldn’t read. He glanced down at her and she recognized it - longing, the same longing she felt about being married to him.

She’d love to be his wife. She’d love for him to be Eleanor’s daddy. But she couldn’t think about those things right now, she was supposed to be his date at this work function. She plastered on a smile and chatted with Mrs. Bowen while Ian chatted with Dr. Bowen about the clinic. 

After a couple of moments the lights flickered on and off, and the two couples separated to go find their seats. Ian squeezed her hand and bent down to speak to her. “Are you alright?”

“Better than,” she assured him with a bright smile. 

He didn’t say anything for a minute, just led her towards their table. The silence felt heavy, and she didn’t say anything. Finally, when they were nearly at their seats, he squeezed her hand.

“Daddy’s baby girl?”

She echoed his answer and inflection from after they’d talked to Ben. “Yeah?”

He stopped beside their chairs and looked down into her eyes intently. “Did you mean it?” 

Rose didn’t flinch, “I did. I do. I want it to be true.” 

It was a surprise when he bent to kiss her, running his thumb along her cheek. “I love you, sweetheart. Thank you.”

She opened her mouth to tell him she loved him, too, but they were interrupted by a man coming up to speak to Ian, teasing about her and Ian getting a room. Ian made introductions and when the other man left, he pulled out her seat. 

They were seated at a table with six other people, Dr. Ross, Dr. Bannerman, and Dr. Perkins, as well as their spouses. Ian introduced her to everyone and she didn’t miss the look that Dr. Ross gave the two of them, having seen them kiss, but there wasn’t much time for socializing before dinner was served. Conversation was light and had virtually nothing to do with work. Rose found herself chatting with the gentleman to her right, Dr. Ross’ husband, when she wasn’t talking to Ian. As he had been every time they’d had dinner with her parents, Ian was a lively, polite conversationalist, and they made each other laugh several times. Rose didn’t miss the strange looks they were getting from his colleagues, but didn’t pay them much mind. She was having too much fun with Ian.

As soon as the main course was served, the MC for the evening took the stage and everyone quieted. He began presenting awards, and although she had no idea what was going on, Rose clapped politely. Some of the awards were specific to the hospital, some of them were regional and covered the greater London area. Ian did his best to explain what was going on when she looked confused, and Rose was grateful. One of the doctors seated at a nearby table was presented with Clinician of the Year, as voted by colleagues, and Ian seemed pleased with the choice. Dr. Bowen was presented with the Lifetime Achievement Award and, since she’d actually spent a little time chatting with him, she clapped just a bit harder. 

The waitstaff had just come around to pick up their plates, and Ian mentioned that he expected there were only the closing remarks left when the MC called a woman out on stage. Ian got visibly excited and a swell of murmuring made its way around the room.

"What is it? What’s happening?"

"That's Susan Foreman Campbell. She's the Chair of the Foreman Foundation. Someone's won a Sully."

"What's a 'Sully'?"

"The Harry Sullivan Award. Everybody’s heard of the Nobel Prize in Medicine, but it and dozens of others like it are given out just to researchers. The Sully is the highest award a _practicing_ doctor can get. I don’t think anyone from the hospital has ever won one before. It’s completely peer nominated --" The conversation and smattering of applause had finally died down and Ian stopped speaking as the woman smiled out over the audience. 

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. It is my honor to be here tonight to present this year’s Harry Sullivan Award. All doctors have a duty of care to their patients, but when my grandfather first became a doctor, he never imagined that his medical knowledge would play such a relatively small role in his practice. My grandfather believed that goodness is not goodness that seeks advantage, and he established the Harry Sullivan Award in 1974 to acknowledge outstanding practitioners in the field of medicine who also show leadership in the field, a strong commitment to quality patient care, and exemplary service in clinical activities. Each year the Foreman Foundation receives hundreds of nominations, but this year’s recipient emerged early in the selection process as a clear favorite. A brilliant mind, an outstanding physician, who, throughout his many years of distinguished service, has proven that he is not just a doctor, he’s an advocate. At the age of 27, while still in his residency, he was the driving force behind the opening of a free clinic in one of London's underprivileged neighborhoods --"

Ian's hand clenched around hers. "Oh my God."

"Ian? Are you alright?"

"The clinic. It's me, Rose. She’s talking about me."

“-- when he saw women coming into the hospital to deliver babies after having absolutely no antenatal care, a clinic he remains dedicated to to this very day. He once said, ‘Human progress isn't measured by industry. It's measured by the value you place on a life. An unimportant life. A life without privilege. That's what defines an age. That's what defines a species.’ And every day he is working to introduce new life - important life - into this world. I give you this year’s Harry Sullivan Award recipient - and the first-ever recipient in the field of gynecology and obstetrics - Dr. Ian Docherty.”

The large monitor mounted on the wall near the stage that had been displaying pictures of award winners all night switched to a picture of Ian, a formal headshot which looked like the kind of thing that had been taken for the hospital’s website a few years earlier. The room erupted into applause but Ian just sat there, stunned, his hand still wrapped around Rose’s. She tugged it a little, trying to break into his thoughts, and he turned to her, eyes wide, mouth open. 

“You won, Ian.”

“I won.”

She nodded, smiling brightly, and noticed that all around them people were getting to their feet as they clapped. 

“I won,” he marveled again, and Rose laughed.

He seemed to break out of his daze and leaned over, kissing her hard. “I love you,” he whispered, but Rose was fairly certain that her reply was lost when he got to his feet. She started to clap but was only able to do so a couple of times before Ian bent to lay his hand on her belly, stroking it once, and kissed her cheek.

“Be right back,” he told her, smiling as brightly as she’d ever seen. 

“Go, you daft thing!” she laughed, shooing him a little, then went back to clapping as Ian made his way through the tables. He climbed the stairs to the stage and went to shake Mrs. Campbell’s hand, accepting a large diamond-shaped glass statue on a marble pedestal. She stepped aside, clapping, and Ian stepped up to the mic, looking down at the award in his hands. All around Rose people took their seats again. Ian opened his mouth to speak, still looking down, and huffed a laugh before he could say anything, stepping back to gather his thoughts. Several people in the audience laughed with him, including Rose. She was relieved for the chance to let out just a little bit of the joy she felt.

“You know,” he began when he returned to the microphone, “just about anyone who knows me will tell you that I’m rarely short on words.” The audience laughed again, and Rose giggled. “And yet, right now, I’m struggling to think of what to say.

“I was explaining to someone a few months ago just why I went into medicine, and how I ended up in the branch of medicine I’m in. Why I do what I do. From a very young age, I knew that I wanted to help people, to keep people healthy. Eventually I realized that I wanted to help bring joy into the world. That’s it. That’s all I want. To make the world just a little bit better, a little bit brighter. I didn’t go into medicine looking for accolades or awards - although I’m infinitely grateful for this. I’m not trying to win. It’s not because it’s fun. God knows it’s not because it’s easy. I do what I do because it’s right. Because it’s decent. And above all it’s kind. It’s just that. Just kind.”

He raised the Sully, happiness all over his face. “Thank you for this. I won’t let you down.”

The entire room stood and burst into applause again, Rose clapping louder and harder than anyone, her eyes filled with happy tears. Ian descended the stairs with a bounce in his step and started heading back to their table, shaking hands as he went. When he got closer Rose reached for him and he came to her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek before hugging him tight. His arms went around her and she felt him press a kiss to her temple. 

“I love you, Ian Docherty.”

Ian raised his head, beaming at her. Then he kissed her again, leaning her back a little in his ardor, making some of the people surrounding them laugh. Rose herself giggled when he finally released her. “I love you too, sweetheart.” 

The applause died down a little and people started taking their seats. Ian kissed her cheek sweetly and stroked her belly once, his eyes tender, then pulled out her chair for her. Once she was sitting he took his own seat beside her, set his award down, and took Rose’s hand in his. She was only too happy to lace her fingers between his. The MC walked onto the stage to give the parting words Ian had been expecting earlier, and Ian looked over at her. To her surprise, he reached up and brushed a tear away from her face. She’d had no idea she was still crying.

“Sweetheart? What is it?”

Rose shook her head a little, wiping her other cheek with her free hand, still smiling brighter than she thought she ever had before. “I’ve known you’re wonderful, and I feel like everyone who’s ever worked with you is bound to know it, too, but now it’s an actual fact. You are the best. I’m just so, so proud of you, Ian, I feel like I could fly away.”

He put his hand on the back of her neck, careful not to muss her hair, and leaned over to kiss her softly. Then he laid his head against hers and closed his eyes. “Now you know how I feel whenever you’re with me.”

Rose gave a breathy laugh and two more tears of joy fell onto her bump.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ask Rishi about the little Easter egg I left for her in this chapter.


	67. Chapter 67

14 April 2012 (cont.)

Ian and Rose hadn’t had a chance to get to their feet after the MC announced that dancing would be starting soon before someone put their hand on his shoulder and told him he was needed for pictures. He nodded, in a bit of a daze, then stood, helped Rose to her feet and led her towards the Brighton Room, where he’d been instructed to go. 

Every couple of feet they were stopped by someone - it seemed every single person in attendance wanted to congratulate him - and ordinarily, he’d have been rude to the people who were slowing him down. But tonight, Rose had her hand in his, he was holding a goddamn _Sully_ with _his name_ on it in his other hand, and he couldn’t help but beam, unable to believe his good fortune. 

If someone had told him at last year’s banquet that he’d be here tonight holding hands with the love of his life - who was eight months pregnant with _his_ daughter - and that he’d be awarded the highest possible honor in medicine, he’d have called them a fucking moron and never given them a second thought. There’s no way he ever could have foreseen this for himself. He didn’t think he deserved any of it, but Christ knew he wasn’t going to argue with the gifts he’d been given. 

After a while, he and Rose gave up trying to make it to the door and just stood in place, speaking to everyone who approached them to offer him congratulations on the Sully and ask leading questions about Rose and Eleanor. Rose was a trooper, shaking hands politely, making light conversation, not so much as batting an eye when people referred to her as his wife, and refraining from slapping away the hands of people who reached over and touched her belly without permission. She never left his side. It seemed to go on forever, but she was right there with him the whole time. He couldn’t possibly have been prouder of her, and took every opportunity that he could to steal a kiss, much to the delight of the people who were standing around them. 

The crowd had dwindled until it was just a small knot of people, everyone else was dancing. Ian took advantage of the momentary break in people to turn and kiss Rose’s hair, hugging her waist a little more tightly, and wished he could stroke her belly but the Sully prevented him from doing that. He looked up to see who they’d be speaking to next and froze, his arm tightening around Rose again. 

It was Joan.

“Congratulations, Doctor. A tremendous and well-deserved honor.” She extended her hand for him to shake it. Ian hesitated for a moment before he made his hand available to shake, thanking her as cordially as possible, praying to every deity he knew of that she wouldn’t make a scene. 

“And this is your wife?” Joan asked, and he could detect the chill in her tone. He hoped Rose couldn’t. 

Before he could introduce them, Rose put her hand forward, smiling pleasantly, apparently sensing no threat. “I’m Rose.”

“Lovely to meet you, Rose. I’ve seen you in the newspapers, of course.”

She laughed a little. “I believe everyone has seen us in the newspaper. I’d thought we’d managed to escape media attention tonight, but with Ian winning the Sully...” She trailed off, turning to Ian and laying her free hand in the center of his chest, beaming proudly, then she looked back at Joan. “Seems we’ll be dealing with the press after all.”

“It seems so,” Joan agreed.

Ian felt a tug at his hand, but Rose was still looking at Joan. "I do hope you'll pardon me being rude, I need to excuse myself for a minute."

"Everything alright?" he asked with a prickle of alarm, not wanting her to leave. 

"Yes, fine," she said with a bright smile, then in a lower voice, "Loo."

"Ah." Now that he thought on it, it was a miracle that she’d lasted this long.

"It was very nice to meet you, Mrs...?"

"Joan," she supplied, and Rose smiled at her.

"Joan. It was very nice to meet you. Thank you for pardoning me."

She turned to look up at him and he brought their joined hands to his lips. "Do you need me?"

Rose snorted. "No. I've got this. You chat with your friend. I'll meet you back here, okay?"

"Alright, sweetheart." She angled her face up for a kiss and he gave it to her, wouldn’t have been able to refuse her for all the money in the world. His eyes followed her as she walked away, making sure she was safe. When she disappeared from sight and he finally remembered that Joan was still standing there waiting to talk to him, he turned back to her. Her eyes were flashing angrily. He had known she would be here, and should have known how seeing him with Rose would make her feel. It wouldn’t have changed anything, but at least he would have been more prepared for this confrontation. 

"You said your life had changed. You didn't say it had expanded."

"Joan --"

"You know, I would think I’d have at least warranted the courtesy of you telling me firsthand that you’d gotten married."

"I didn't get married."

"Rose is --"

"Not my wife." _Yet._

Joan scoffed. "Everyone here seems to think so. It’s the only thing I’ve heard all night.”

“She and I are… together.”

“You're more than together,” she hurled like an accusation. “You're in love with her. You’re having a baby with her."

“Yes, I am.” It was true. As far as he was concerned, he was Eleanor’s daddy and that was all anyone needed to know.

"I've known you for many years, Doctor, and I've known you --” her voice dropped “-- intimately for the last five. I've never seen you anywhere near this happy."

“Stands to reason. I’ve never _been_ anywhere near this happy.”

Joan looked a bit like she’d been slapped. She closed her eyes and turned her face away for a moment. Finally she asked, "When is she due?" in a strained voice.

"Next month. The 29th."

Ian offered nothing else and saw the exact moment Joan completed her quick mental calculation. A May baby would have been conceived in August, only a few weeks after the last time he would have been with Joan.

"I see," she said, and he saw her physically straighten her shoulders and raise her head proudly. He had to admire that grit in her. "Hold onto her, Doctor. Hold onto her and don't let go."

That took him off guard. "Why would you say that?"

"Because someone could take that award away from you right now and you wouldn't care, as long as that girl kept her hand in yours."

She turned to walk away and Ian caught her elbow long enough to stop her, then he dropped it. “Joan… I’m sorry. I should have been more direct. Forthcoming. It was wrong and I apologize.”

She waved a careless hand, although Ian knew she was anything but careless. “Water under the bridge now. You have other things to worry about in your life than me, Doctor. Congratulations on the Sully, and on your baby - a girl, I hear?”

“Yes, a little girl. Her name is Eleanor.”

“That’s a lovely name. Congratulations.”

His ‘thank you’ fell on deaf ears as Joan turned her back and walked away from him. Ian rubbed his forehead tiredly, then shook off the conversation. He didn’t have time to dwell on it, nor did he want to. Unwilling to stand around any longer, he walked as directly as possible towards the ladies’, spotting Rose coming out just as he was approaching. He felt himself ease from just the sight of her, and her entire face lit up when she saw him. They closed the distance to each other, each reaching out a hand. He took it and pulled her close, kissing her as deeply as he could without ruining the makeup she’d obviously spent a moment retouching in the loo - or causing a scene.

“Well, hello to you too, handsome. You’re done talking to Joan?”

“Yes. I’m through with Joan.” He couldn’t help the harsh, caustic little laugh that brought on, but just shook his head when Rose cocked her head to the side questioningly. “Nevermind, sweetheart. Let’s go see what the fuck they wanted us in the Brighton Room for.”

There were much fewer interruptions this time on the way to their destination, and Ian assumed they must have spoken to everyone already, that the accolades of the evening were over. He was surprised, therefore, when he and Rose stepped into the Brighton Room and the people gathered there burst into applause. Rose tugged his hand and beamed up at him, so obviously proud, and he squeezed her hand before he nodded to the room at large. 

All of the winners had been gathered for photos, but because Ian and Rose were so late arriving, most of the photos had been taken. Mrs. Foreman approached, explaining a couple of the finer details about his award, including the £1M honorarium he was being given. That, he knew, would go straight to the clinic. Bill would be beside herself. 

The photographer arranged people and matched them up, taking group shots of colleagues and individual shots of each winner with his or her award. As she had been all night, Rose was an excellent sport, finding a place off to the side and chatting with the people who approached her. 

After Ian posed with his partners and his Sully for a group photo, he felt the absolutely overwhelming urge to be near Rose. Honestly, it was torture having her so close but not being able to touch her. He’d had enough of that in the last six months or so. He went over to her, bending down to kiss her, and as he was pulling away, the photographer called out, ‘hold it!’

Ian and Rose both spun around to find the photographer with his camera aimed at them, although he was looking at the screen on the back of the camera. “Perfect!” he exclaimed. “Dr. Docherty, if I could get you and your wife to come over here, please? I need to get a couple shots of you.”

“I don’t think that’s --”

“Yes, Docherty,” Dr. Ross chided him. “Why don’t you and your _wife_ go pose for a picture?”

Ian scowled at her, but Rose took his hand and caught his attention. “You alright, sweetheart?”

“I’m fine. It’s okay. I just look horrid.”

“You don’t,” he assured her, kissing the hand he held. “You’re fucking gorgeous.”

“Right this way, Mrs. Docherty,” the photographer said, directing Rose to stand by the fireplace. He posed her the way he wanted her then posed Ian with her and took several pictures. 

"Okay. Got it. Ta. Should be in Monday's paper. Enjoy the rest of your evening, Dr. and Mrs. Docherty."

Rose looked up at Ian and he just knew what she was thinking. He kissed her hand. “I’m going to talk to the guy, alright? It’ll be fine.”

She nodded, and Ian approached the photographer, who was packing up. 

“Look, would you mind not using one of the photos of me and my - my wife?” He did his best to ignore the thrill that went through his entire body at that word. "I think she's gorgeous, but... you know how pregnant women are."

The bloke snorted. “Yeah. My wife went a bit nutty there for a while, too.”

Ian wasn’t _about_ to dignify that, so he said, “I’d still like a copy of the photos if you don’t mind.”

“No problem, Dr. Docherty. I’ll email them to your office by Monday.”

He shook the photographer’s hand and went back to Rose, slipping his arm around her waist. 

“Everything alright?”

“Everything’s perfect, except we’re not dancing,” he teased. 

“Ian,” she admonished. “I couldn’t possibly. You’d have to roll me out there.”

“Hush. You’re stunning, and I want to dance with you. Will you?”

She sighed a little, even though her eyes were twinkling. “Ian…”

He picked up one of her hands in his, kissing her knuckles. “Please, sweetheart? It’s my birthday.”

Her lips were pursed, like she was trying to be chagrined and not amused. “You know I can’t say no to you when you look at me like that. You have me wrapped around your finger, Ian Docherty.”

Ian chuckled, then bent to kiss her quickly. “The feeling is entirely mutual. Now, let’s go dance.”

Two minutes later, he led her into the open space in the middle of the room, pulling her close, holding one of her hands in his against his chest, his other arm wrapped around her waist. She looked up at him adoringly, her eyes completely full of love, and he marveled again at his fortune. 

"You know, Rose, all of these men - every fucking one of them - wish they were me." He brushed his thumb over her cheek, longing to pull her closer, to show her exactly how beautiful she was in his eyes. 

“Well of course they do,” she reasoned with a bright smile. “You just won a Sully.”

“That’s not why, sweetheart. They’re all wishing it was _them_ holding you in their arms.”

She scoffed. “Oh, you’re being silly.”

“I’m not. It may seem like they’re looking at me, but all eyes are on you, Rose. You’re breathtaking.” He smirked, his breath catching just a bit at the tiny hint of pink that appeared under his thumb. "Let’s make them jealous."

“How do you propose we do that?” she asked, her voice breathy.

“Just stay with me,” he said, pulling her just a little closer. “That’s all, sweetheart. Just stay with me.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Ian. You’re stuck with me.”

“Greatest fucking news I’ve ever heard. There’s no one else I’d rather be stuck with. And Eleanor is the icing on top.” Ian leaned forward, touching his forehead to hers. “We’re going to be a _family_ , sweetheart. It’s the best thing that’s ever happened in my life.”

Rose smiled, sliding her hand from his shoulder up his neck until she was holding the back of his head. “You daft man. You just won the biggest award in medicine and a million pounds, but Eleanor and I are the best thing that ever happened to you?”

“Absolutely. The Sully is rubbish compared to you and my baby girl.”

She pulled him down a little, rolling up on her toes, seeking his lips. He kissed her softly, mindful of keeping it relatively chaste in the presence of all his colleagues. Her eyes were bright when he pulled away. 

“I love you, Ian. And I may have missed most of your first forty-six years, but I’m going to be there for your next forty-six years. You have my word.”

“It could never be enough, sweetheart. Entire millennia wouldn’t be enough time with you.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to propose to her, to ask her to make everything legal and official, but he bit it back. 

For now. 

Soon. 

Rose’s eyes took on a glint and she started tracing her fingers back and forth along his hairline, making him shiver a little. “It’s a shame you drove tonight and we didn’t have Henry drive us.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Mhm.” Then she went up on her toes, pulling him down so she could whisper into his ear. “If you weren’t driving, I’d probably have my face buried in your lap the whole way home.” His eyes rolled back into his head and he clutched her, but she wasn’t done. “In fact, I’m rather sure that your colleagues aren’t jealous because you’re dancing with me. I’ve got a tenner says that they’re jealous because they know that very soon after we get home, I’m going to have you shouting to God in at least five languages. You --”

He had to stop her mouth. If he didn’t she’d likely get him so fired up he’d drag her into a deserted room and have his way with her. So he kissed her, hard, clinging to propriety by his fingertips. She was smiling when he pulled back and her eyes still had that mischievous glint. 

“We’re getting the fuck out of here,” he told her, turning to lead her from the dance floor and making a conscious effort not to drag her. 

“Was it something I said?” she teased, and her tongue was between her teeth when he turned around and looped a finger under her chin, his eyes absolutely blazing. 

“Docherty!” came a voice from a short distance away, startling him and quite likely stopping him from creating a minor scandal with Rose on the edge of the dance floor. He turned around to face the speaker. 

“Decker, how are you?”

“Fantastic! But not nearly as good as you. Congratulations on the Sully! And I hear you’ve married and are about to have a baby girl?”

Ian did his best not to tell his colleague to fuck off. It was alright, he assured himself. Home was the same place for him and Rose, and they were headed there soon. 

Just… not soon enough.


	68. Chapter 68

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my birthday. Have some birthday sex!

14 April 2012 (cont.)

“I have something for you,” Rose said from her place in the passenger seat. He glanced over just as she was ducking her head, blushing a bit. “I mean, nothing will ever compare to the Sully…”

He brought her hand to his lips - it was all he was capable of doing while he was driving. “You know better, sweetheart. I already told you, the Sully is amazing. The highest honor I’ll ever receive as a doctor. But it’s shit compared to you.”

She blushed a bit more, and Ian had to tear his eyes away from the valley between her breasts to look at the road. 

“You should probably ring Auntie and Fergus before they read about it in the paper.”

“I will in the morning, but not tonight. The only thing I’m doing when I get home is taking you to bed.”

“Oh you are, are you?” Rose giggled. 

“Oh yes,” he growled in response, feeling himself stir in his pants. “Your hair is absolutely lovely and so is your gown. You were by far the most beautiful woman there tonight, Rose. But the gown is about to be a fucking puddle on the floor and I’m going to fuck your hair up tremendously.”

Rose raised their joined hands to her lips, her eyes smoldering. “Good,” she said, then sucked Ian’s forefinger into her mouth. 

He did his best not to whimper when she ringed her tongue around the tip, scraping her teeth so, so gently over his fingerprint. They were only a couple of miles from home. He could make it, but he had to concentrate on the road and not his rock-hard cock - or the things he was going to do to her with it the absolute fucking _moment_ he got the chance. 

Then she sucked his finger a little deeper into her mouth and he felt himself nearly tremble at the thought of all the things she could - and likely _would_ do to _him_. 

Blessedly, he pulled up to the house and parked in the garage. Rose waited until he came around the car to help her out, which he did, then surprised her by pressing her up against the side of the SUV and kissing her nearly desperately. His hands wandered her body, clutching her bum, sliding over her hips, cupping her breasts, not staying anywhere for long. For her part, Rose scratched at his scalp, knowing what that did to him, and she wasn’t shy about gripping his bum as well. He moaned into her mouth when she cupped him through his trousers, sliding her hand up and down his length, then broke the kiss and bit his lip when she squeezed. 

“Ian?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“I want you.”

He nodded, breathing heavily. “Yeah. Yeah. Let’s go to bed.” He wasn’t able to resist kissing her again, though, taking her mouth, reasserting his claim on it. Finally, she pushed him away a little bit and he broke the kiss. 

“C’mon,” she said, and her brown eyes were absolutely overflowing with promise. “Take me to bed.”

Once they were inside he started up the back stairs, still holding Rose’s hand, but she pulled back. “You go on up, I’m right behind you.” He looked at her quizzically and she grinned. “I told you I had something for you.”

“It can’t wait?” He hoped the words didn’t come out like a whine, but wouldn’t have been surprised if they had. He was nearly desperate for her.

She stood on tiptoes and kissed him softly. “Go on up, handsome.”

“You’re coming soon?”

“I sure hope so,” she teased, and he smirked. Oh, he was going to make damn sure she did. 

He bent down and kissed her, leaving his hand on her cheek when he pulled away a few seconds later. “Don’t be long.”

She giggled and gave him a gentle push. “Go away, you. I’m right behind you.”

Ian dashed up the stairs, pulling his tie and collar loose on the way down the corridor, not bothering with lights. Once he got to the bedroom, though, and lit a single lamp beside the bed, he was at a loss. What should he do? Deciding to make ready for what he figured was about to happen, he busied himself by unbuttoning his tuxedo jacket and tossing it over a chair, then toed off his polished shoes and socks. A softly cleared throat made him turn his head.

Rose stood in the dark doorway, her face softly lit by a burning candle stuck in the top of a large chocolate cupcake with fluffy white icing. She smiled radiantly as she sang ‘happy birthday’ and walked slowly over to where he stood beside the bed. He couldn’t help but thank every star in the sky for the woman in front of him. 

“Make a wish and blow out your candle,” Rose encouraged when she finished singing, and there was absolutely no question about what he would wish for. He closed his eyes, wished, and blew. 

_I wish Rose was my wife._

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he said, touched by the small gesture. 

“This wasn’t from me. This was from Eleanor.”

Ian smirked a bit, then leaned down and traced his hand along the side of her belly. “Thank you, Little Face. Daddy loves you.” He planted a soft kiss over where his daughter ( _his daughter!_ ) lay, then stood back up to face Rose, to acknowledge what he’d said in some way, but her eyes were twinkling.

“ _This_ is from me,” she said, then took the candle from the top of the cupcake, scooped a little icing on it, and smeared it along Ian’s neck above his collar. Before he could even process what had happened, Rose had her mouth there, licking and sucking slowly, her teeth nibbling gently. He clutched at her hips, massively turned on, the erection that had faded a little now back in full force.

When she pulled away with one final kiss to his neck, smirking, he asked her, “So that was from you?”

“Mhm. So is this.” 

She did it again, smearing a little icing in the hollow of his throat, then cleaning it with her lips and tongue while Ian did his best not to explode. He heard the clatter of a small plate on the bedside table, then felt Rose’s small hands unbuttoning his shirt. Unable to wait another second, he caught her mouth and kissed her with all the lust and desire he’d had pent up all night while he wasn’t able to touch her the way he’d needed and he’d had to watch his colleagues eye her appreciatively. She was his, though, she’d promised to stay with him, and he’d be damned if he let her go.

Rose pushed his shirt off of his shoulders, and while Ian was shaking the sleeves off of his arms, she untucked his vest and ran her hands up his chest, rucking the fabric up on her bare arms. Once his hands were free, she started trying to get his vest off in earnest, tugging it over his head. He was only too happy to comply, leaving himself bare chested, and reached for Rose when the vest was gone. 

“You are so fucking gorgeous,” he murmured against the skin of her neck when he finally released her lips. “I love you so much, Rose, so fucking much…”

Rose trailed her nails up and down his bare back, driving him mad, then pushed him back a little. She took another dollop of icing on her finger and smeared it in a line down the center of his chest. He looked down at the icing, then up at a mischievously smirking Rose, who was sucking her finger clean. 

“Yes?” she asked with much false innocence. 

He raised an eyebrow at her, playing along. “You gonna clean that up?”

“Oh, you’d better believe it.” Then she applied her mouth to his chest, sucking, licking, nipping. Ian wasn’t able to do anything but hold onto her shoulders and lean his head back in bliss, uncaring when a little noise escaped him. When she’d finished ‘cleaning’ the area she’d put the icing on, her mouth trailed lower. Ian’s hands threaded through her hair, mussing it terribly, while her tongue ringed his navel, just as her hands made an appearance at his trousers, working the button and zip.

“Rose,” he choked out - it was all he was capable of. 

“I had plans for you,” she confided as she slid down his zip hurriedly, making him naked in an almost single-minded fashion. Ian was in a daze and could only stare down at her. “It’s your birthday, so tonight was going to be all about you. All about your pleasure. I was going to make you come over and over until your bollocks,” she slipped her hand into his pants and cupped them, making Ian yelp, “begged for mercy. But I confess, I’m much more selfish than I’d thought I was, and my plans are going out of the window.”

She tugged his trousers and pants down, baring him, and his cock bobbed free. “Why are you self- _oh fucking Christ_!”

His question was cut off when Rose took him into her mouth, licking around the head of his cock, pumping what she couldn’t get between her lips with her hand. Ian’s hands fisted in her hair, encouraging her gently - so, so gently. She sucked on him for a moment, making him groan her name while she slid his trousers and pants down over his hips until they pooled at his bare feet, leaving him naked before her. She wasn’t paying attention to his body… or, rather, she was paying attention to one very specific _part_ of his body, attention that Ian deeply, _deeply_ appreciated. He made a garbled sound when he felt her hands cup his bollocks again, rolling and squeezing gently at the same time his cock hit the back of her throat. 

“Rose… sweetheart…”

She eased back until her tongue was circling the head of his cock while she pumped it at the perfect fucking rhythm. “Get on the bed,” she ordered, and he was quick to obey, stepping out of his trousers and lying down on the bed, his cock harder than iron, waiting for her. He didn’t know what she had planned, but he was absolutely certain he was going to love whatever it was. 

Looking over at her, he saw that she had her hands behind her neck, releasing the halter of her dress. It fell forward, exposing her absolutely gorgeous breasts, and his mouth fairly watered. He’d been right, she hadn’t been wearing a bra, and he was intensely grateful for that right now.

Rose never took her eyes off of him when she reached behind herself to unzip her dress, letting it slide to the ground and expose the rest of her body. She was wearing nothing but a pair of lace knickers and hold-up stockings, and Ian thought he might come right then, just from the sight alone. Without his knowledge or permission, he fisted his cock and started stroking it gently while he stared at her. 

“You have until I get these knickers off to do that, then I’m taking over,” she grinned, calling his attention to the fact that he was wanking. He barely had time to debate whether to stop or not before Rose had gotten her knickers off - leaving the stockings - and was crawling onto the bed, overtop him. His hand reached for her, but he clenched it into a fist to stop himself from dragging her down on top of him. 

“I’m torn, Ian. You see, I had planned on putting a little icing on you - just for fun - before I sucked you off. But you taste so good…” She dipped her head and licked him from base to tip to emphasise her point, making him hiss a breath. “I kind of just want to taste you as you are. What do you want?”

“Anything, sweetheart. You can do anything you want to me. Please.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Anything I want? So if I wanted to do this…” Rose cupped his bollocks and lowered her head to them, sucking one into her mouth and stroking his cock at the same time, making his brain spark. He called her name, he thought he shouted something else, too, but she didn’t stop rolling him around in her hot, wet mouth. Then, God help him, she did it to the other one, still jacking him up and down. 

Ian started to whimper. “Rose, please, please…”

“Please what?”

“I want to be inside you. I _need_ to be inside you. Please, please, sweetheart…”

She crawled up his body until her face was level with his and he couldn’t help it, he pulled her down into a scorching kiss. Ian honestly couldn’t remember being more turned on than he was in that moment, couldn’t remember kissing someone with more passion than he felt right then. He let his hands explore her, squeezing her bum as it hovered in the air over his hips, sliding up her skin to cup her breasts and squeeze them, causing her to make a little sound in his mouth. He liked it, so he did it again, thrusting up blindly to try to sink into her heat. 

Rose broke away and trailed kisses down his jaw until she got to his ear. “You want me to ride you?” she whispered. 

“Yeah,” he managed to get out. 

“You want me to fuck you, Ian?”

“Please, Rose, I’ll do fucking anything…”

She placed a light, sweet kiss on his ear, then raised up onto her knees, taking him in hand and lining him up. With a mischievous glint in her eye, though, she dragged the head of his cock back and forth through her wetness, biting her lip and moaning when he nudged her clit. He was nearly desperate to be buried inside her, but at the same time, he didn’t want her to stop getting herself off using him. Encouraging her, both with his words and his hands running up and down her thighs, kneading her, he let her continue. She rubbed his head against her clit a little more and Ian tried not to thrust, then she settled him at her entrance. 

“Are you ready, handsome?”

“Fuck yes,” he said, but it dissolved into something more animalistic when she sank down on him. She was tight, so goddamn _tight_ , and he managed to clear his head enough to look up at her. “You alright, sweetheart?”

Rose nodded, biting her lip, her eyes closed and screwed up in something like pain. It alarmed him and he gripped her thighs. 

“Sweetheart?”

“Just give me one second,” she told him, covering his hands with hers, threading their fingers together. He did as asked, fighting every instinct to thrust up into her, then she started rolling her hips in a circle. Ian rolled his head back and cursed, and she expanded the circle a bit. Within a minute, she was moving up and down slowly, riding him gently, and he thought he may die from the feeling of her wet heat gripping his cock, sliding on it. It took next to no time before she was bouncing on him in earnest, riding him hard, and he was thrusting up to meet her. He let go of one of her hands, sliding his fingers between them to rub her clit, determined that she come before he did. 

“Ian,” she whined from above him. “It’s so good, you’re so good, I’m so full…”

He took a moment to look up at her, her gorgeous face, eyes closed in bliss, head thrown back while she rode him and he fucked her from below, perfect breasts bouncing with each movement. She was the exact embodiment of every erotic fantasy he’d ever had, and she was his. 

“I love you,” she babbled. “I love you, Ian, so much…”

“I love you, too,” he panted. He could feel himself getting closer, approaching the point of no return, and he intensified his stroking of her clit. “Come for me, sweetheart…”

She took him by surprise when she exploded on top of him, her already tight channel clamping down on him and triggering his own orgasm. He thrust up into her, burying himself as deep as her body would allow him to go, then released with a strangled cry of her name. Lights exploded behind his eyes and in his mind, shaming any fireworks display he’d ever seen, and he collapsed back onto the pillow, panting for air.

They both groaned when Rose rolled off of him and came to lay beside him, glistening with sweat and short of breath. He was physically unable to reach for her, feeling like his skin might jump off his body if he did, but eventually he calmed enough to pull her into his arms. At once, she turned her face up and he obliged her, giving her a long, slow kiss that reflected just how relaxed they both felt. 

“I love you,” he murmured when he pulled back just a bit. 

“I love you, too,” she smiled, then gave him another little kiss. “All in all, not a bad birthday?”

“The best fucking birthday I ever had.”

~*~O~*~

17 April 2012  
Week Thirty-Four

Ian couldn’t help but smile as he made his way home after getting called out on Monday night - well...he looked at the clock on the console of the SUV. Tuesday morning, now. Time was absolutely flying lately.

Since Saturday night and his winning the Sully, there’d been congratulations, shaken hands and pats on the back everywhere he’d gone. He’d done his best to be gracious and take it all in stride, but couldn’t help being annoyed when he’d announced he was going to lunch and Clara had stopped him, saying he was needed somewhere else. Ian had made plans with Rose, and there was nothing more important than her as far as he was concerned. He was surprised when they got to the breakroom: Clara and the other nurses had arranged to have a little surprise party for him at work, complete with balloons, streamers, and a cake decorated with the Foreman Foundation’s logo. He was further surprised to see Bill and a couple of the nurses from the clinic standing there as well, everyone holding plastic cups and singing ‘For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow’. 

Clara proved how well she knew him - again - when she told him that she had rang Rose this morning to let her know about the party and Rose wasn’t expecting him for lunch today, she’d gone shopping with her mother. That, coupled with a text from his sweetheart ten minutes later telling him to enjoy the party, that she loved him and was so proud of him, had allowed him to relax. 

Nearly all of Rose’s clothes and belongings were moved in now, and Rose was referring to his house as ‘home’. The pink blanket he’d gotten her for Christmas was tossed over the back of his brown leather couch, there was more food inside the fridge than there had been in months, and on the front of the fridge was a printout from Eleanor’s ultrasound and a selfie of himself and Rose, taken several weeks ago on the couch at her cottage. He’d been surprised to see that she had a framed photo of the two of them at the Vitex gala, and he’d picked up a frame for his photo of them with the Sully from his birthday. One had gone beside their bed, the other was on the mantel. 

He positively couldn’t wait to fill the house with photos of their life together. Everything was damn near perfect - so very, very close to perfect. The only things that could make it better would be Eleanor’s arrival next month and if Rose would agree to marry him. 

Making Rose Tyler his wife had been all he’d been able to think about since she told him she loved him and wasn’t leaving in Glasgow. He’d gotten up the nerve to ask her to move in, but stopped short of proposing since he didn’t have a ring. He was still hunting for one in every spare moment he could steal, and his hopes were high that he’d have one by her birthday in ten days. 

He pulled into the garage and parked, then went into the dark house, kicking off his shoes by the door and looking at the clock - 3:45 a.m. If he went to bed right now, he could sleep for three hours before the alarm. It would be enough - God knows he’d worked on less. 

As quietly as possible, he went upstairs towards the bedroom, grinning to himself a little because he knew his sweetheart would be there. He couldn’t wait to snuggle up next to her. He’d never minded being on call before, but since he’d been sharing a bed with Rose, it was becoming more of a hardship to get out of bed and leave her to go to work. To be honest, he wasn’t sure that that feeling would get better. 

He stopped outside Eleanor’s room, looking in at the moonlight casting shadows across the floor and illuminating the boxes and bags that were stored there. He had a ton of work to do, but it could wait for now. 

“Hey, handsome,” came from inside the bedroom while he was still in the corridor, making him raise his eyebrows then go into his bedroom. Rose was there, sitting up on her side of the bed, propped against the headboard with her tablet on her belly, casting a glow onto her face. When he came into the room she smiled, then leaned over to turn on the lamp. “Rough delivery?”

“Had to do a c-section. What are you doing up?”

“Ugh,” she groaned. “My stupid legs felt twitchy. I couldn’t sleep.”

“That’s normal.”

“So I gathered. Still obnoxious.”

He chuckled and went to bend over and kiss her. “Yes. Still fucking obnoxious.” Then he started taking off his clothes and putting on his pyjamas. “So you’re reading?”

“I was reading BBC News, but I clicked a link and ended up in the tabloid section.”

“Oh, fuck,” he swore, pulling back the covers on his side of the bed. Rose tittered a little and started pulling the pillows out from behind her back to give him the ones she’d stolen, setting her tablet on the bedside table, turning off the light, and laying down - in his arms, where she fucking belonged. He was a happy man. Luckiest bastard alive.

“What are they saying?” 

“Apparently we had a secret wedding in Scotland when we went to Auntie’s, with no one but the minister as a witness. And then our reception was Saturday night, here in town. That’s where I wore my wedding gown, the article said.”

Ian scoffed a little, then said, “Well, to be fair, that dress did look a bit like a wedding gown.” It had certainly put _him_ in that mindset.

“It _was_ a wedding gown,” she admitted. “We couldn’t find a maternity evening gown I liked that fit, so we made do.”

He kissed her softly. “I liked seeing you in it. You were stunning. You always are.”

Rose smiled and nuzzled into him. “It was funny, because there was a link on the page to an article about the hospital banquet Saturday night, and you winning the Sully. So the two articles conflicted each other.”

“Well, one was journalism, the other was fucking sensationalism.”

“That’s true.”

She laid quietly in his arms and Ian let his mind wander. He felt himself getting sleepy, but couldn’t help but ask the leading question: “So we had a secret wedding in Scotland, huh?”

“Apparently so,” she chuckled.

“And how do you feel about that?”

Rose snorted as she snuggled deeper into his side. “As if I’d get married without Mum there.”

That settled it. He was going to find a ring and propose within the next couple of weeks if it killed him. Rose Tyler would _not_ be going into labor with his daughter without his ring on her finger. Over his dead body. Then she laid her hand on his chest, rubbing a little circle, and a second idea sparked. 

“Hey.” Ian turned his head to her and she kissed him sweetly. “I love you,” she murmured against his lips when they released. 

“I love you, too, sweetheart.”

Luckiest bastard alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, RishiDiams jumped on a plane with less than a week's notice and flew halfway across the country to celebrate my birthday with me. I'm posting this then we're going to eat breakfast. She's pretty spectacular, and I just felt you all should know that. 
> 
> And yes, we've been discussing this story (and its sequel) A LOT.


	69. Chapter 69

19 April 2012

~Rose: _where is the oregano?_  
~Ian: _why do you need oregano?_  
~Rose: _just tell me where it is_  
~Ian: _the cupboard to the right of the stove, top shelf_  
~Ian: _are you alright?_  
~Rose: _I’m fine. next question. do you have a stepladder?_  
~Ian: _you’re scaring me, sweetheart_  
~Rose: _don’t be scared. I’m just cooking supper for us_  
~Ian: _you’re what??_  
~Rose: _you heard me. or saw what I said. whatever._  
~Ian: _sweetheart, try to understand my concern_  
~Ian: _the last time you cooked, you nearly set the fucking cottage on fire_  
~Rose: _your house is safe, Ian, I swear_  
~Ian: _sweetheart…_  
~Rose: _I just wanted to do something nice for you, okay?! something fucking romantic! Never fucking mind!_

The mobile in Rose’s hand played Ian’s ringtone and she seriously considered ignoring it, but didn’t. She did, however, make him wait until she’d mopped her eyes and gotten herself together a bit before she answered - although her voice was still a bit wavery. 

“Hello?”

“Sweetheart, are you alright?”

That simple question brought on another flood of tears and she sat down on one of the barstools, covering her face with one hand, the other holding the mobile to her ear. 

“Rose, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know you didn’t,” she acknowledged, snuffling. 

“I was mostly teasing, but I _am_ a little worried. Are you alright to do this?”

“I’m fine.” She wiped her eyes and sniffed, hard. “My back hurts a little, but it hurts no matter what I do. I got bored, Ian, and I wanted to do something nice for you.”

“I understand, sweetheart. Do you need me? I have two more patients, and then I can pass rounds off on someone else.”

“No, I’m fine. Cooking is going fine. I’m almost done and I haven’t destroyed anything. I just…” Her lip quibbled again and her voice was subdued when she spoke again. “I just wanted to impress you. Show you I’m good enough for you.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he crooned, and even though she couldn’t see him, she knew just by his tone he’d have his hand on her cheek if he were here. 

“This is the stupidest thing ever to cry over, but I can’t help it. Fucking hormones!”

“They’re a bitch, I told you. But it’s not stupid. You’re entirely too good for me, sweetheart. There’s nothing I could ever do to deserve you. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.”

“You really don’t have to cook. I’m perfectly happy to order takeout or cook for us.”

“I want to, though, Ian. Don’t you see? I want to take care of you just as much as you want to take care of me.”

He sighed. “Alright. Go, then. Finish cooking. I won’t give you a hard time anymore - _unless_ you start hurting. I reserve the right to bitch and complain and make you put your feet up then, alright?”

Rose laughed a little. “Fair enough.”

“I’ll be home soon, sweetheart. Looking forward to dinner.”

She snorted. “No, you’re not.”

He chuckled. “I’m sure it’ll be wonderful. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

Rose hung up the mobile and sniffed again, one last time. Her stupid hormones snuck up on her from time to time and she would feel herself spiraling into a temporary madness over the daftest little things. Thank heavens her bloke understood her hormonal fluctuations better than she did, and he was infinitely patient with her. Really, she didn’t deserve someone as wonderful as Ian, as kind, as loving, as unfailingly thoughtful…

Once again her face screwed up with tears, and she cried just thinking about how wonderful he was, burying her face in her hands for a moment until she could pull herself back together. 

The doorbell rang, startling Rose out of her thoughts. She sat her mobile down on the counter and went to answer it, making a quick stop at the mirror in the foyer to see just how terrible she looked, and cringing at what she saw. There was nothing for it now, though, she didn’t have time to fix it. At least her mascara wasn’t running - her eyes were just red. 

The doorbell rang again and Rose went to open it. She was surprised when she saw Pete standing on the doorstep.

“Pete!” she cried, smiling and genuinely pleased. “What are you doing here? Where’s Mum?”

“She’s at the mansion. Are you alright?”

Rose cringed a little. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Did you want to come in?” She stepped aside and Pete came in. Rose shut the door behind him and started back towards the kitchen. “Come on in the kitchen and I’ll fix you a cup of tea. Ian isn’t home yet, but he said he only had two more patients, so you’re welcome to wait.”

“I’d love some tea, thanks, but I didn’t come to see Ian. I actually came to see you. I need to talk to you about work.”

She blinked at him after she flipped the switch on the kettle. “Me?”

“Yes, you. But first, are you sure you’re alright? You look like you’ve been crying.”

“Hormones,” she said with a wave of her hand. “I cry over every little thing.”

“Did Ian make you cry?” Pete fairly growled. 

Rose shook her head. “No. ...Well, yes, but it was stupid. I got upset when he asked me if I was sure if I wanted to cook dinner. I’ve never done any cooking, see, and the last time I cooked for him was Valentine’s Day. When he walked in the door of the cottage, the smoke alarm was going off and the gnocchi I’d made was practically liquid. I guess it left a bad taste in his mouth - possibly literally.”

“Was he rude to you?”

“Of course not!”

“It’s just that I know how he can be sometimes. And I won’t have him talking to you that way.”

Rose smiled at Pete. His concern was so sweet. “You don’t have to worry. He’d never hurt me, not on purpose. We’ll have rows, I’m sure, and there will be times I’ll think he’s a complete arsehole, but he’ll never mean to hurt me. I know he won’t.”

The kettle whistled and Rose went to make the tea for herself and Pete, stirred the sauce on the burner and turned down the heat to low, then came back to the table. Pete hadn’t said anything while she was adding the milk and sugar, but he thanked her when she handed him the mug she’d prepared for him. 

“So you were making dinner for him on Valentine’s, huh?”

Rose flushed. “Yeah.”

“But you weren’t dating then?”

“No. I told myself that I’d just wanted to do something nice for him, that it being Valentine’s Day didn’t factor into it. But that wasn’t true, and I knew it the whole time.” She laughed a little. “I even wore an outfit that I’d bought with him in mind.”

“You really do love him,” Pete marveled. 

“I do,” she nodded. “I don’t know when it happened, I think I fell for him around Christmas or a little before. After he kissed me at New Year’s, I couldn’t get it out of my head. It only took a couple of weeks before I realized I couldn’t live without him.” Pete looked a little incredulous, and Rose rushed ahead. “I know this has got to be weird for you, being his best friend and all. You watched him being single for so long, but, I mean, you’re his _best friend_. Certainly you see all his wonderful qualities.”

Pete took a sip of his tea. “Ian is a fantastic bloke. He’s very compassionate, very driven, very clever. But most people don’t get to see that side of him. The vast majority of people either see him in doctor mode, when he’s taking care of patients, or they see his prickly, sarcastic side. There aren’t many of us who know the real Ian.” He scoffed a little. “I thought I was one of those people who did. But I have to admit, I’ve never seen him the way he is with you. Not with any girlfriend he’s ever had - not even when he was with Jenn.”

Rose wasn’t sure how she felt about that, but she was terribly curious to hear more. “Oh?”

“Yeah. He was mad about her but there was something missing, looking back on it. Some connection wasn’t there between them. To be honest, the same thing was missing between me and the first Jackie. Like it was almost right, but not quite. Close enough that we could delude ourselves that we were meant to be together, but we really weren’t. It wasn’t until your mother came along that the last bit of the connection, the bit that had been missing, fell into place, and I knew. I just knew.” 

Rose was surprised to hear this candid a confession from him to her, of all people, but she was grateful for it. It made her feel closer to him. 

Pete took another sip of his tea. “I think, subconsciously, I came to believe that Ian wasn’t capable of that kind of connection. That he just wasn’t a romantic bloke, wasn’t built for love.”

“You were wrong,” Rose said quietly.

“I know. I can see that. He loves you desperately.” 

“Yeah, he does,” she answered, fairly glowing. She knew that Ian loved her, there was no doubt, but it was wonderful to hear that other people could see it. 

“Took me a long time to really accept that he did. But the poor bastard was intrigued by you from the first night he lay eyes on you,” Pete smirked. “Called you something. ‘Bombshell’, I believe it was.”

Rose giggled. “He told me not long ago that he felt drawn to me that first night.”

They were quiet for a minute, both sipping their tea, and Rose found herself wanting to return the favor and open up to Pete. “Honestly, I don’t know how I fell for him. When I first met him, it was only a couple of weeks after we’d landed and my heart was broken. But he was so nice and so friendly. Just kind, you know? When I found out about Eleanor, I was terrified and felt alone. Ian did everything he could to make me feel safe and protected. He was always there if I needed him - or if I just wanted him. And he took me at face value, didn’t see me as an heiress. I just _knew_ he’d run like hell after I told him about growing up on the estates, that he wouldn’t want to be associated with a chav. But it didn’t seem to bother him one bit. All he’s ever wanted is to be with me, that’s it. And he hasn’t even been pushy about that. He’s been patient and steady and safe.” She paused for a second. “I know I’m going to be alright in this universe because I have Ian holding my hand. He won’t let anything happen to me.”

Pete nodded. “I don’t believe he ever would. Eleanor either. I just… I want to make sure you’re happy, Rose. I know how you feel about me, but I - I care about you. It’s important to me to know you’re happy.”

“I am...” she almost said ‘Dad’ but caught herself at the last moment, “...Pete. Truly. Unexpectedly, but truly.”

“Good. But if he ever gives you a hard time, you and the baby can always come running back to the mansion. You’ll always have a home under my roof.”

Rose giggled. “Not gonna happen, but thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Did you say you had some Torchwood business for me?”

“I did.” Pete started explaining to Rose about a species they’d encountered called the Eldebe and asking if she had any knowledge of them. As it happened, she did, she and the Doctor had visited their home planet, so she and Pete spent a while chatting at the kitchen table about the yellow-skinned alien species. They were just winding down when Eleanor kicked, hard.

“Oof!” Rose exclaimed, putting her hand over the place Eleanor was kicking. “Settle down, little girl.”

“Is she kicking you?” Pete asked, and there was something in his eyes as he stared at her belly, something like longing, that melted Rose. 

“You want to feel?”

Pete’s face lit up into a smile. “You’re serious?”

Rose got to her feet and walked the two steps over to where he sat. Pete tentatively put his hand on her belly and Rose moved it to where it needed to be, but Eleanor didn’t move. “C’mon, baby,” Rose encouraged, but the baby remained quiet and still. Pete’s face fell, and she felt terrible. He’d never been allowed to touch her before, and she’d wanted to give him this gift…

They heard the sound of the door opening, making Rose jump. Eleanor still didn’t kick. Within a second, Ian was rushing in the kitchen door, looking around before his eyes landed on Rose and Pete. 

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Well hello to you, too, Ian,” Pete said, dry, his hand falling away from her belly. 

Ian ignored him and rushed to Rose. “Sweetheart? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Ian, everything’s fine.”

“Is it Torchwood? Is it the hoppers?”

Rose laid her hands on Ian’s chest. “Calm down, handsome. We’ve talked about this. I’m not going anywhere. There is absolutely nothing for you to worry about.” 

He threw his arms around her and kissed her briefly, then held her tight, murmuring that he loved her in her ear. She told him she loved him, too, and the two of them got lost in their embrace until Pete made a noise and they broke apart. 

“I had a question about a species and thought Rose may be able to help.”

“Really? That’s it?”

Rose nodded. “Yep. Eleanor kicked and I was trying to let Pete feel her move, since he hasn’t. That’s all.” Then she grinned, deciding to stroke his ego and soothe his worry a little at the same time. “Don’t suppose you’d like to try talking to her, would you?”

Ian smirked - as she’d suspected he would - and told Pete confidently to put his hand back on her belly. Then he bent down and started murmuring to Rose’s bump in Italian. She bit her lip to keep from pulling him up and snogging him breathless, but Eleanor kicked and then rolled. The look of wonder on Pete’s face was absolutely priceless. 

“That’s amazing,” he breathed.

“She always wiggles around like that for Ian,” Rose told him, going back to her seat, accepting a kiss from her bloke on the way. “I’m afraid he’s spoiling her already.”

“I have not yet begun to spoil her,” Ian said with a glint in his eye, and Rose snorted. Pete just shook his head.

~*~O~*~

Rose’s entire body tensed and she yelled for Ian as she came, pleading with him. He was unable to answer her, groaning out his own pleasure as he emptied himself inside her, clutching her shoulders, panting “I love you.” She tried to respond, to tell him that she loved him, too, but his pelvis continued to grind against her incredibly sensitive clit and she was only able to arch her head back, mouth wide open in a silent scream.

Moments later she and Ian both whimpered when he slid himself out of her. Before he nestled himself between her body and the back of the couch, he bent and kissed Rose’s bump, poking playfully at her belly button which was now an ‘outie’, and whispering how much he loved Eleanor. Then he stretched out beside her, pulling the pink blanket off the back of the couch and over them both. 

“I love you, Rose Tyler,” he murmured, kissing her gently when he had the blanket arranged to his satisfaction. 

_Rose Docherty. I want to be Rose Docherty._

“I love you, too.”

Ian raised his head up on his elbow and nodded towards the telly, smirking. “I think this may be the first time you haven’t figured out whodunit in the entire history of us watching The Yard.”

She looked over at the telly, playing the end credits to their favorite show, and couldn’t help but grin a little. They’d only gotten to see the first few minutes before he attacked, but she’d already had a suspicion. Instead, she turned back around to him and gave a cheeky smile. “I was a little distracted.”

His eyebrows shot to his hairline. “A _little_ distracted?” 

“An eensy bit,” she teased, holding up two fingers about an inch apart.

“Why you little,” he started, leaning down to retaliate playfully and tickle her sides while she squealed, giggled, and squirmed. It wasn’t long before the playful attack had turned into sweet, soft kisses on her neck and sliding hands over her skin, making her squirm in a different way. 

“I love you,” she whispered into his ear, running her hand down to his bum, then back up to thread through his short hair. “I love you so - _oof!_ ”

Eleanor kicked, hard, making both her parents stiffen and focus their attention on her. Rose’s hand left Ian’s head and went to cover the place she’d just been kicked, Ian’s hand coming to rest on hers right after. Eleanor kicked again, earning a grunt from her mother, and Ian immediately gave her a concerned look. 

“Are you alright, sweetheart? Is she hurting you?”

“No, not really. I’m just surprised; usually she’s quiet after we… you know.”

He smirked at her, then dipped to kiss her cheek beside her ear. “Make love?” he whispered.

Her entire body broke out in gooseflesh. “Yes. That.”

Ian chuckled, a sound like dark chocolate, and kissed her again, then raised his head and pecked her lips before turning his attention back to her bump, rubbing a circle on it. “Most babies are rocked to sleep by the motions during sex. That’s why she’s usually quiet after. But we must have woken her up afterwards this time.”

“Must have,” Rose agreed, right before Eleanor kicked again. “She’s certainly awake now.”

“Let me try something,” Ian said, then scooted around and propped himself up so that his face was level with her bump. The second he had the chance, he pressed a kiss there. “Hey, Little Face. What’s wrong in there, hmm? Why are you kicking Mummy so hard?” He rubbed big, soothing circles on her belly. “Just tell Daddy, sweet baby. He’ll make it all better.” 

He started to sing, an old Beatles song this time. Rose’s eyes filled with tears she couldn’t help while he finished the song and Eleanor settled down.

“ _Though I know I’ll never lose affection for people and things that went before, and I know I’ll often stop to think about them… In my life, I love you more…_ Daddy loves you, Eleanor.” He kissed Rose’s belly then turned to look at her. “Daddy loves you, Mummy.”

“I love you, too,” she sniffled. 

“What’s wrong?”

She shook her head, impatient with her own hormones. “I’m just so grateful that Eleanor is going to have a daddy that loves her. I never had one, not until...”

“Until when, sweetheart?”

Rose bit her lip, considering the events of the evening - of the last eight months, really, and longer. “If I ask you something, will you tell me the truth?”

“Oh, shit.”

She swatted him a little. “I’m serious, Ian.”

“Of course I will, sweetheart.”

“Have I been unfair to Pete?”

“Yes,” he answered immediately, surprising her. She started to defend herself, but didn’t get the chance. “But I understand why, and so does he. No one blames you.”

“He really wants to be my dad,” Rose said quietly.

“More than anything, sweetheart. He loves you. And had you lived here all your life, had you been born here, he _would_ have been your dad.”

“He pushed me away though, Ian. That’s hard to get past.”

“I got past it,” he said simply and Rose’s brow furrowed. “That day in Hyde Park, when I kissed you for the first time, you pushed me away. And I know you had every reason to,” he said, raising his hand when she started to get defensive. “But think about it for just a second, sweetheart. He had just seen the same things you had that night - he’d seen Jackie die - and that was his _wife_. Then to find out suddenly that the woman standing in front of him was his sort-of daughter from another universe…? That’s a lot to fucking swallow.”

Rose shrank into herself. Ian was right, she’d been unfair. And she had gotten to know Pete over the last several months - he was a kind man who genuinely cared about her. She knew that. He wasn’t so bad, really. And he deserved better than her holding him at arm’s length. 

“I can’t speak for the Pete from the other universe,” Ian went on, stroking her belly, “but I _can_ speak for my best friend. And I can tell you that if he had been able to, he’d have been stroking your mother’s belly and talking to you in the womb just like I’m talking to Eleanor. He’d have been as head-over-heels in love with you as I am with this baby. And there’s a big part of him that resents the fact that he didn’t get that chance. He hates that you grew up poor, Rose, and he wants to give you the world now. He had a knee-jerk reaction on the night of the cybermen attack, and he’s regretted it ever since. He’s making another choice now. Pete accepts you completely, even though you’re not _technically_ his.” Rose digested all of this for a minute, then Ian pressed a kiss to her belly and looked up at her earnestly. “He accepts and loves you the same way I accept and love Eleanor. He wants to be your father, sweetheart. Just like I want to be hers.”

“You are her father,” she said quietly, almost whispered. 

“Then why can’t Pete be yours?”

Rose didn’t have an answer, just a tear slipping from the corner of her eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meet the authors!  
> 
> 
> Caedmon (left) and RishiDiams ...with bonus guest, the TARDIS!


	70. Chapter 70

27 April 2012

Rose reclined in the leather chair that had been delivered earlier that day with a pink bow on it - _her_ chair. It perfectly matched Ian’s favorite chair, and now he’d bought her one, too, for her birthday. When she’d rang him at work to squeal about what he’d done, he’d told her that as soon as Eleanor was old enough, he’d buy her a miniature one so they’d have a set. He’d have it made, if need be. Rose just laughed and shook her head, smiling. Her bloke was ridiculous, but she loved him more every single day. 

The television was on now but she wasn’t watching, she was singing to Eleanor and waiting for Ian to get home from work. He had forgotten to switch call so they’d had to plan her birthday dinner for tomorrow night instead of her actual birthday, today. Around three he’d sent her a text saying he was going to run a few errands before he came home from work and informed her that he was handling dinner, for her to just keep her feet up, relaxing. A little less than an hour ago, just before six, he’d texted to say he was nearly done, would pick up whatever she wanted on the way home, and asked whether he should grab dumplings or fish fingers and custard. Rose had made a face at the screen, giggled at his teasing, then asked for Italian, knowing it was his preference. 

She heard the garage door open and started trying to get out of the chair, but it took her a few tries before she was up and on her feet. Gravity seemed to be pulling harder on her lately. 

Ian was in the kitchen unloading bags of food onto the counter when she came in. He grinned at her but that wasn’t nearly enough, so she slid her hands around his waist and angled her face up for a kiss - which he gave. 

“Hey there, sweetheart.”

“Hey, handsome.”

“Are you hungry?”

She snorted. “Aren’t I always lately?”

Ian chuckled but wisely avoided answering that question. Instead, he pulled out the round foil container that held her food and sat it in front of her. “Grab a fork and go have a seat in the lounge. I’m right behind you with drinks.”

“I can fix my drink,” she argued, pulling out a glass, but he grabbed her hand and kissed her lightly. 

“Go take your food and have a seat. You can take my fork, too, if it’ll make you feel better.”

There was no point in arguing, so she just kissed him one last time, grabbed the forks, and went into the lounge, having a seat on the sofa and putting her food onto the coffee table. Ian joined her just a couple of minutes later, and the two of them debated what to watch before settling on a thriller and tucking in. 

Rose was stuffed to the gills ten minutes later with more than half of her food left, but Ian was still eating. He’d explained that she’d be eating smaller meals more often because Eleanor was pressing up against her stomach, making it less capable of holding food. She picked at her dinner for a couple of minutes, then, with a sigh, put the lid on and clambered to her feet. 

“Sweetheart?”

“Going to put this in the fridge. I’ll be hungry again in a couple of hours.”

Ian chuckled. “Yeah, you will.”

She smiled at him one more time, just because she loved him so bloody much, then went into the kitchen. On the way back she stopped by the loo - hoping to head that particular need off at the pass for a little while - then washed her hands and went back to her seat. 

Ian was just finishing his meal when she got back. He opened up the peppermint that had been included as a courtesy, popped it in his mouth, and scooted back into the corner of the couch, his arm up. Rose didn’t hesitate at all before she scooched under his arm, settling against him. As she usually did, she laid her head on his shoulder and her hand on his chest, where she could feel his heartbeat. Tonight, though, he hissed in pain and Rose jumped back, raising her hands, her eyes wide. “Ian, what’s wrong?”

He looked almost sheepish. “Nothing, sweetheart, nothing’s wrong at all.”

“Did I hurt you?”

“It’s not --”

Rose reached towards the place she’d laid her hand, but he pulled back. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing’s wrong. It’s your --” He hesitated, seeming nervous. “It’s your birthday present.”

Her face screwed up in confusion. “My birthday present is you having chest pain?”

Ian chuckled and shook his head, his hands going to his collar. He made quick work of his shirt, pulling it off and tossing it over the arm of a nearby chair while Rose stared at him, wondering if he’d gone mad. Then he looked at her uncertainly. “Your birthday present is this.”

He pulled his vest over his head and Rose’s eyes went immediately to a tattoo over his heart. It was a red rose, open, beautifully drawn, and growing from it was a single, tiny rosebud. 

“I know now why I didn’t get that tattoo all those years ago,” Ian said in a quiet voice. “I was saving that spot for the things that matter most to me in the whole world.” She didn’t respond right away and his voice was more unsure than she’d ever heard it. “Do you like it?”

Her hand was hovering over the tattoo, her fingers itching to touch it, but she was an estate girl and knew better. The skin was still pink and raw and there was a sheen of ointment over the roses that she knew he’d have to reapply frequently for the next two weeks. She finally looked away from the tattoo with wide, tear-filled eyes, smiling when she saw his face. 

“I love it. I love you. It’s just…”

“It’s just what, sweetheart?”

“Aren’t you afraid you’ll regret it?”

He leaned forward and cupped her cheek. “You’re it for me, Rose. Even if you got tired of me tomorrow and left, never looked back, I wouldn’t regret this tattoo. You and Eleanor own my heart. You always will.”

Rose shut him up with her mouth before he said anything else that might quite possibly make her melt into a puddle, and soon they were making love on the sofa. Things were getting more awkward lately, angles were becoming trickier, and things weren’t as easy for Rose as they had been a few weeks ago. She said nothing, though, unwilling to interrupt Ian’s pleasure (or her own), or cause him any worry.

When they were panting and sated and Ian pulled the pink blanket over their naked, sweaty bodies, she reflected on Dr. Ross’ admonishments against ‘sexual acrobatics or anything that makes you uncomfortable’. Doing _anything_ physical lately felt like a feat of acrobatics, but much to her dismay, sex with Ian was starting to get a little uncomfortable. She didn’t want to give it up, though - she was only thirty-five weeks. If they stopped having sex now, they couldn’t have sex again until after Eleanor was six weeks old. The two of them had waited so long to be together, she wasn’t sure he’d be willing to take a nearly-three-month hiatus. She wasn’t willing to find out, either. 

It was only a mild discomfort, she assured herself. Nothing to get her knickers in a twist over. 

Ian nuzzled her ear. “Happy birthday, sweetheart. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“I’m sorry I forgot a cake.”

“We’ll have cake tomorrow night.” She settled deeper into his arms and sighed happily. “I still can’t believe you got a tattoo for me.”

“I’d get a dozen, if you wanted.”

“Maybe I’ll get one for you,” she said with a grin. “Just the word ‘fuck’ in a pretty calligraphy.”

Ian laughed. “Everyone would definitely know you’re mine then.”

Rose giggled. “Yeah, they would. But I don’t think there’s any question now. I’m yours.”

He kissed her sweetly. “Good.”

~*~O~*~

28 April 2012

Ian had been sent on a wild fucking goose chase, and he knew it. That wouldn’t have been so bad, but the fact that Jackie Tyler had kicked him out of his own house and sent him on said chase was really a kick up the sheuch. 

Rose’s birthday party was tonight at six, and she needed to rest after the busy day they’d had. After chatting about it for the last couple of weeks (and due to Rose’s nesting instincts insisting it needed to be done soon), they had picked one of the shades of pink taped to the wall in the nursery and gone to buy the paint earlier in the day. He’d planned on painting on Sunday - surely it wouldn’t take more than a couple of hours. Rose had been gently nudging him to do it for the last two weeks. He’d known he wouldn’t have the time to paint today, wasn’t even going to try, but he _had_ thought he’d have a little downtime with Rose before guests started arriving. 

He’d been wrong. 

Rose had been upstairs lying down when Jackie and Pete had showed up on his doorstep shortly after three, Jackie saying that she needed to be there to make Rose her favorite meal. Ian, bewildered, had protested that he’d hired a catering service for the night - the one the Tylers usually used, in fact - and there was no need for her to do any of this. Jackie said they were welcome to serve whatever he’d ordered but she knew her baby, and Rose would most like beef and mushroom pie. It’s what she’d made for Rose’s birthday since Rose was a little girl, and she wouldn’t be stopping now. 

Then Jackie had pushed past him, into his kitchen, and started opening his cupboards and drawers looking for God knows what. He must have looked stunned because Pete patted him on the shoulder and said, “Welcome to the family, mate.”

Ian hadn’t been able to articulate a decent response. 

Now here it was nearly two hours later, and Jackie had claimed that she absolutely _had_ to have celery and coriander. She and Ian had been butting heads continually while she made herself at home in his kitchen, Ian grinding his teeth to bite back the snark he wanted to fire at his girlfriend’s mother, and he didn’t doubt for a second that she was coming up with bullshit so she could be rid of him. He was prepared to argue with her, to tell her to get her own goddamn celery, but Rose stood in the entrance to the kitchen when she came downstairs and realized what was going on, looking almost ethereal, damn near glowing, and if she wanted celery in her beef and mushroom pie he’d walk through fire to fucking get it. 

So Ian had left, unconcerned that he would be back before the caterers arrived. Unfortunately, the Tesco’s closest to him was under renovations, so he’d had to go a bit out of his way. _That_ store had had the coriander, but the celery had been sub-par. He was unwilling to listen to Jackie’s shit if he showed up with limp and puny produce (not to mention the jokes his best friend would have made), so he’d driven another fifteen minutes out of his way to yet another store. Thankfully, they had what he was looking for, and he was prepared to go back home. Dinner started in forty-five minutes, he’d certainly missed the arrival of the caterers and lost the ability to explain to them what the fuck was going on in his kitchen, guests were probably already arriving, and he needed to change clothes. He couldn’t host a fucking dinner party in jeans and a worn t-shirt with a graphic of the bones of the hand on it. 

He ran into the side door, delivering Jackie’s items and verified with the caterer that everything was on schedule for dinner. Then, ignoring the doorbell, he dashed upstairs to change into his clothes, skipping a shower for lack of time, and cursing Rose’s mother under his breath. Once he was suitably attired, he bounded down the stairs, dodging waitstaff as he looked for Rose to apologize for being late (and rude). Ian found her talking to a woman he didn’t recognize. He put his arm around Rose’s waist, kissing her temple and then her lips when she turned her face up with a smile. He murmured his apologies, then nodded towards the brunette woman Rose was chatting with. “Who’s this?”

“ _Ian_...” Rose said through her teeth in an insistent voice that indicated he was being rude somehow, and he looked back at the woman. She wore a little black dress, relatively nondescript, and strappy heels. Her brown hair tumbled below her shoulders and she was very beautiful, but now that he was looking at her properly, there was something about her…

“Don’t worry, Ian. I get that reaction a lot. It’s just me. Osgood.”

Ian’s jaw fell and he stared at her, completely blown away. “But… you’re fucking _gorgeous_!”

“Oi!” Rose protested at the same time Osgood laughed, “Well, thank you.”

Ian finally looked away from Osgood down to Rose, who was giving him a look of mixed annoyance and amusement.

“I’m sorry,” he did his best to recover, smiling, squeezing Rose’s waist. “I didn’t recognize you without the question marks and glasses. Maybe the occasional bow tie.”

Osgood laughed merrily. “That’s the real me, the way I’m most comfortable. But my sister, Bridget, is hosting a fundraiser at the museum. It’s her first since taking over the department, and she’s anxious about it. I’m dressed up to go support her.”

“That’s so sweet of you,” Rose smiled. “And you look amazing.”

Ian agreed, but didn’t do so aloud. He suspected he was already in enough trouble. “You’re not staying?”

“No, unfortunately I have to go. But since you’ve been keeping Rose all to yourself and I haven’t seen her in the last two weeks,” she said with a wink at Rose and a teasing grin at him, “I felt like I needed to come by and say ‘happy birthday’.”

Rose stepped out of his arms and over to her friend, pulling her into a hug. “Thank you for coming.”

“You’re welcome, Rose. Happy Birthday. I’m so sorry I have to leave, I wish I could stay.”

She waved Osgood off, stepping back to Ian. “You’ve got to go support your sister, I totally understand. I’m just thrilled you came by beforehand.”

Ian nodded. “Yes, thank you for coming.”

“It’s my pleasure. I should get going, though. Call me one day this week and we’ll have lunch.”

“Monday?”

“Monday is great.”

“It’s a date, then. And we’ll walk you to the door,” Rose said warmly, and the trio went towards his front door. Once there, Rose and Osgood exchanged another hug, then Osgood waved over her shoulder as she walked down the steps from Ian’s porch towards the driveway. Once she was out of sight, he shut the door. 

Rose immediately swatted his arm. 

“Ow!”

“‘ _You’re fucking gorgeous_ ’? Really, Ian?”

“Sweetheart…”

“Don’t you know better than to sing the praises of another woman’s looks with your pregnant girlfriend - who’s gained almost twenty pounds in the last six months, by the way - standing right beside you? Honestly --”

He didn’t let her finish before he swept her into his arms, kissing her firmly, letting his lips and tongue tell her just how goddamn gorgeous she was without saying a word. Rose didn’t hesitate before her arms were around him, clinging to him, and he dipped her backwards a little when she started carding her fingers through the short hairs on the back of his head. 

“Ah, gross. Must you?”

Ian and Rose broke apart hurriedly, turning towards the source of the voice and spotting Mickey standing at the entrance to the dining room, holding hands with Martha.

“Where did you come from?” Ian demanded.

“Pete let us in the kitchen door. Are you done sucking her face?”

“Problem, idiot?” he snarked, still holding Rose, certain that his hair was a disaster.

“I knew you two were finally admitting to being a couple, but I didn’t think you’d be making out all over the place.”

“We’re standing in the foyer of _our home_ , dipshit.”

Mickey shrugged. “Still. We don’t want to see that. Get a room.”

“The whole house is mine!”

“It’s good to see you, Micks,” Rose said, breaking away from him and straightening her clothes a little. Ian smirked to see her patting her hair into place before she crossed the foyer and opened her arms to her best friend, putting a little kiss on his cheek. “And you too, Martha,” she said, doing the same thing for Mickey’s girlfriend. 

Ian stepped over and shook Mickey’s hand, then did the same with Martha and kissed her cheek. The foursome chatted for a few minutes until he spotted another pair of familiar faces in the next room and excused himself. 

“Clara! Bill!”

Clara scoffed. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say my name without either bellowing it at top volume or saying ‘go the fuck away’ along with it,” she said with a grin.

“Domestics agree with him,” Bill agreed with her own lopsided grin. “You were right, Clara. We should have pushed him to date years ago.”

“Oh, fuck off, the both of you,” he said as he leaned forward to hug them both at the same time. “Thank you for coming. Rose will be thrilled.”

“I feel weird, not bringing a gift,” Clara complained. “Seems like she should get _something_ on her birthday.”

“Oh, I’ll bet she got _something_ on her birthday, alright…”

Clara swatted a smirking Bill, and Ian did his best not to flush - even though he could feel his ears flaming. Thankfully, he was saved by doorbell ringing, forcing him to excuse himself. Clara and Bill wandered off to find drinks - and presumably some trouble to get him into. 

“Dr. Docherty,” Henry said when Ian opened the door, offering his hand. Ian shook it, and Henry indicated a pretty, petite blonde next to him who was holding a baby. “This is my wife, Anna.” Ian reached forward to shake her hand as well when she shifted the baby around and made one available. 

“I’m Ian Docherty, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“A pleasure to meet you as well, Dr. Docherty.”

“Please, call me Ian,” he asked, ushering them in. “And tell your husband to do so, as well.” The couple laughed, and Ian wished for Rose. It wasn’t that hosting and being social was _hard_ , he could certainly do it, but he’d much prefer to have Rose by his side. “And this must be little Philip.”

“Yes,” Anna said proudly, adjusting the baby again so he was easily visible. “This is our little boy.”

“A handsome lad. Rose has talked quite a bit about him, but he’s _much_ cuter than she gave him credit for.”

“Oh, hush, you,” came his favorite voice in the world from behind him, sounding amused, and he turned with a bright, genuine smile to see Rose waddling his way, her hands on her belly. “You know that’s not true. Hello, Anna,” she greeted her friend with one of those little air kisses, and then one for Henry. “And you, too, Henry. Is Ian behaving himself?” she asked, stepping back beside him and letting him put his arm around her. 

“Do I ever?” Ian asked, and the four adults laughed. They chatted for a few minutes about small subjects, the weather and whatnot, then Rose offered to show Anna around the house, introduce her to some people. Henry stuck behind with Ian. 

The party divided itself along gender lines fairly quickly, with the women taking over the lounge and Pete and Mickey joining Ian and Henry before long to hang out in Ian’s study. The waitstaff kept everyone well supplied with appetizers and drinks. Ian frequently checked his watch, noting that it was well past six and no mention had been made about dinner; however, each time he did, Pete would engage him in conversation, almost as if he was trying to distract him. Finally having had enough of that, Ian excused himself and went to the kitchen to ask Jackie just what was going on. 

“Running behind!” she declared, looking frazzled with the lead caterer standing behind her looking helpless. “Still trying to get the pie put together.”

He gaped at her. “You haven’t even _baked_ the fucking thing?” he ejaculated. “It’s coming up on seven!”

Jackie’s hand went on her hip. “Well if _somebody_ hadn’t taken forever when they were sent on a simple errand…”

He sputtered angrily for a second, then the doorbell rang. His brow knitted in confusion - everyone he’d invited was here - and started towards the door, forgetting all about Jackie. Rose met him in the foyer, looking as confused as he felt, and he took her hand and squeezed it before he opened the door. When he saw who was on the other side, he refrained from swearing - just barely.

“Fergus? Auntie?”

“Happy birthday, dear,” Auntie said with a smile, stepping past Ian and reaching for Rose, pulling her into a hug. 

“I had no idea you were coming.” Rose sounded bewildered but pleased - just like Ian felt. 

“I rang them,” Pete said from behind Ian, making him turn around. His best friend was smirking, then turned his smile on the most recent arrivals. “Rose has talked so much about you two since she got back from Glasgow, I thought she may appreciate a visit for her birthday.” 

Rose, with tears in her eyes, went to Pete and hugged him. Ian heard her murmur, “Thank you,” and Pete told her she was welcome. 

“Hey! How about me?” Fergus asked loudly from where he stood behind Auntie, wearing a smug grin. “Is everyone going to get one of those but me?”

Ian glowered at him for flirting with Rose, but Rose just huffed a laugh, wiped her eyes, and stepped over to Fergus with her arms up. His cousin pulled her into a bear hug, and Ian started to protest how hard he was hugging her, afraid Fergus would hurt her or the baby. His attention was taken by Auntie crossing in front of him, approaching Pete. 

“Pete Tyler,” she said, looking up at him. 

“Mrs. Fitzgerald. I’m so glad you came.”

She reached up and patted his cheek. “You used to have more hair.”

Ian snorted a laugh and heard Fergus do the same behind him just as he felt Rose’s hand slip into his. Pete flushed a little, but didn’t look upset. “Yes ma’am. And you look more beautiful than ever.”

“Hmph. Still silver-tongued, I see.”

Pete was remorseless. “Yes, ma’am, it’s part of my job. But that doesn’t make it any less true.”

Auntie dismissed the multi-billionaire without a seeming second thought and turned to Ian. Her smile was brighter and more relaxed when she acknowledged him. “Ian.”

He couldn’t help it, he was so happy to see her. Without waiting, he pulled her into a big hug. “Hello there.” The fact that she was there was huge for Ian - Auntie wasn’t wild about travelling, which is why he usually went home. The fact that she’d made the trip for Rose felt deeply significant to him. 

She stepped back and patted his cheek, just as she had with Pete. “You didn’t shave.”

Fergus snorted again, and Ian glanced over at Rose long enough to see her cover her mouth to try to hide a smile. 

“I did shave it, Auntie, you saw the pictures on my birthday. But I grew it back.”

“Why?”

“My sweetheart likes it,” he said simply. It sprung to his lips to say that she liked when it tickled her, but he didn’t dare do so in front of Auntie - or Rose’s father. 

Auntie pursed her lips at him for a second, then looked around the foyer. “I hope we’re not interrupting. I was concerned that we’d barge in during dinner. It’s why I made Graham ring the bell.”

“Dinner isn’t ready yet.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“No,” Pete stepped in before Ian could say something snarky. “My wife, Jackie, is having a bit of a time of it. Hopefully she’ll be done soon.”

Auntie smacked Ian in the belly with her purse, a silent instruction for him to take it. “She’s in the kitchen?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll walk you there.”

Without another word, Auntie left Ian, Rose, and Fergus standing in the foyer while she headed to the kitchen with Pete. 

“If Jackie Tyler is anything like I remember her, we should make popcorn and sell tickets.”

Ian scoffed. “She’s not that bad anymore. Much sweeter now than she used to be.” Rose gave him a smirk. “What?”

“You know what, handsome.”

“She’s still a pain in the arse, though.”

Rose giggled at his attempt and was so cute in her smugness, he had no choice but to kiss her, completely forgetting about Fergus until he pulled away and his cousin spoke, catching his attention. 

“So! Bampot! Introduce me to your friends. Particularly the ladies.”

Rose giggled and Ian sighed. The night had just gotten significantly more interesting, to say the least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to scotbren for the Scottish in this chapter! *mwah*
> 
>  
> 
> Here's the tattoo that Ian got:  
> 


	71. Chapter 71

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry today's update is late. We had a dental emergency in my house.

Auntie and Fergus showing up had been a complete surprise, but Ian knew now that Pete had kept it that way on purpose. It had been planned for them to fly down on Pete’s zeppelin earlier in the day, but weather had prevented them from taking off for several hours, making them late to the party. Ian certainly wasn’t complaining, he was grateful for every moment he could get with his aunt and cousin. Best of all, Rose had been genuinely thrilled to see them. He resolved to thank Pete later - perhaps even by letting him win a game of pool. 

Nah. No need to go that far.

He’d had quite a lot of reservations about putting them together, but Rose seemed to have hit it off swimmingly with Clara and Bill. The three appeared thick as thieves - which very well may prove to be his personal nightmare. He suspected that the level of shenanigans that trio could get into would know no limit, and it made him decidedly nervous, but he couldn’t help but be thrilled to see Rose happy and engaged with people closer to her age. Ian had never met Anna before this evening and had only met Martha once, but those two ladies had fallen right in with Rose, Clara, and Bill, as if they’d all been mates forever. 

He and the other men drifted into his study, sipping scotch and chatting. Ian chuckled when Fergus, Pete, and even Mickey each gave a eulogy to his bachelor days, and it almost felt like a stag party, but the giggles of the women were clearly audible from the lounge. Frankly, after having lived in this nearly-silent house for the last ten years or so, he absolutely loved the change. It felt like things in Ian’s life were coming alive, he was overwhelmingly happy, and he made no bones about saying so. He was nothing but proud of his relationship with Rose, of his impending fatherhood, and he accepted the other men’s ribbing when he stepped over to check on Rose a couple of times, wanting to make sure she was comfortable and didn’t need anything. 

Jackie and Auntie called everyone to dinner, and thus began the portion of the evening Ian had been dreading. He and Rose were at opposite ends of the long table, with ten people between them. Conversation was lively, however. Ian was unsurprised to see Fergus flirting with Clara, who was seated next to him, but was terribly amused to see Clara flush in response to his cousin’s flirting. He started to catch Fergus’ attention to tell him to knock it the fuck off, but Bill, who was seated at his left, shook her head with a grin. 

“Nah. Let them have their fun. I know where she’s sleeping tonight and besides, it’ll be fun to see his face when I plant one on her in a bit.”

Ian couldn’t help but snicker at that, and after shooting a wink at Rose, he went back to his meal.

After the dinner was finished, the waitstaff jumped in to clear the table. Jackie and Auntie tried to help, but he took the plate out of his Auntie’s hand and led her away, telling her (and Jackie) that they were there to have a good time, and the caterers would handle everything. Jackie groused but Pete shoved a glass of wine into her hand and encouraged her to drink and she quieted. Auntie pursed her lips at him, but Fergus intervened and distracted her, getting her into a seat and comfortable.

Everyone retired to the lounge - the men joining the women this time - and Ian was grateful to not have to leave Rose’s side anymore. He encouraged her to sit in her new chair and let people mill around her instead of being on her feet. She agreed and he stood by her, holding her hand, beaming with pride whenever someone referred to him as Eleanor’s Daddy. 

Anna declared that Rose “needed practice” and handed off a sleeping Philip to her. Rose accepted the baby into her arms gracefully, snuggling him close, and Ian felt his heart constrict. She looked so natural, so perfect, and he couldn’t help the tears that pricked the back of his eyes when he remembered that in five weeks or so, she’d be holding _their_ baby in her arms. 

Ian bent down to get a better look at the baby, lost in the dizzy anticipation of something like future memory, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “You look gorgeous like that, sweetheart,” he whispered. 

Her eyes were bright and sparkling with unshed tears. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, barely even looking at the baby. “Like you’re meant to be holding a baby.”

“Our baby,” she murmured.

“Our baby,” he agreed. 

“You know,” Clara announced loudly, having had a couple glasses of wine with dinner. “It occurs to me that the Doctor could use a bit of practice holding a little one, too.”

Ian didn’t miss Jackie’s surprised eyes when Clara called him the Doctor, but his attention was focused on Rose. Her eyes twinkled again, this time with mischief. “That’s something I’d like to see myself.”

He smirked at her, but before he could say anything else, Mickey was nudging him in the back with a chair from the dining room, trying to place it next to Rose so he could sit. Ian thanked the idiot and took the seat, reaching for the baby. As with everything else they did, they worked together seamlessly to transfer Philip, and Ian held him close. Philip suckled in his sleep and Ian stared at him a little, wondering what his daughter was going to look like. What color would her hair be? Her eyes? He hoped she looked exactly like her mother.

“You look gorgeous like that, handsome,” Rose murmured from beside him, and he turned to look at her.

“Yeah?”

She echoed his words back to him. “Yeah. Like you’re meant to be holding our baby.”

“I will as soon as she gets here.”

Completely unable to stop himself, he leaned over and kissed Rose sweetly, prompting a mixed chorus of loud cheers and groans.

~*~O~*~

Ian always hated doing dishes, but it had gotten better since Rose moved in with him. She would sit at the island and talk to him about nothing and everything, grumbling every so often because he wouldn’t let her help. But tonight, she was still in the lounge, entertaining the last of their guests, which was only Pete, Jackie, Auntie, and Fergus while he rinsed the few dishes the caterers had left behind and loaded the dishwasher, trying to get the kitchen to a place they’d be able to live with until Johanna came on Monday to clean. It wouldn’t take long, he figured, since the caterers had done most of the work.

He’d only been at it a few minutes when he heard someone enter the kitchen, and he smiled when he looked up and saw Auntie behind him.

“Thought you may like another set of hands.”

“I’ve got this, Auntie. You go relax.”

“I can’t relax when there’s mess, you know that. And besides, maybe I wanted a little time with you.”

He stepped aside at the sink, making room for her, smiling. “Uh-oh. That sounds ominous. Am I about to be grounded?”

Grace scoffed. “No, you’re a bit old for that. Wouldn’t do any good anyway, you always found more shenanigans to get into as soon as I let you out of trouble.”

He chuckled, rinsing a plate. It was true enough, but he had a hinky feeling his Auntie wasn’t just in here to clean up and reminisce. 

He was right. 

“So you’re this little one’s daddy, eh?”

Ian nodded once without looking up. “I am.”

“It’s a far cry from a few weeks ago, when you were insisting that the two of you weren’t like that and Rose didn’t love you.”

“I was wrong,” he said simply, then smiled. “I’ve never been so happy to be wrong in my life.”

“You said the baby wasn’t yours.”

“It doesn’t matter. Rose and I are together now --”

“You were together before,” Auntie chuckled. 

“ _Properly_ together,” Ian amended. “She and I have no intention of leaving each other, ever, and we both love Eleanor.”

“Well, what does that mean?” 

“It means we’re going to raise her as a family. I’m Eleanor’s daddy, Auntie, which makes you her gran. She’s your granddaughter.”

A small, almost triumphant smile crossed his Aunt’s features and her blue eyes sparkled, but she didn’t acknowledge her new title directly. He was taken a little off guard when she asked, “Are you going to marry Rose?”

Before he could say anything, an explosion of laughter came from the lounge, and he was able to hear Jackie saying, “Oh, I don’t believe it. Ian would never.”

More than a little alarmed, Ian exchanged a look with Auntie then dried his hands on a cloth and went to find out what was going on. He arrived just in time to hear Fergus say, “It’s entirely true, Jackie Tyler. Ian won ‘best legs’ in a womanless beauty contest in uni. Ringo was there, he can tell you.”

“Fergus!” Ian cried in mock outrage, “I’m going to fucking kill you.” 

A small, elderly hand slapped his shoulder, and he immediately felt guilty. “But it’s my house!”

“You know better.”

His cousin ignored them. “Then there was the time I came down to London on business and went to pick him up for lunch. He was with a patient, so I had to sit in his office for a while.”

Ian rubbed his hand across his eyes, knowing what was coming, knowing he was supposed to be chagrined, trying not to laugh at the memory. 

“He’s got these posters on the wall of uteruses and developing fetuses - the standard stuff you’d expect from someone who does his job. There was one of the female anatomy I think might have just been for fun...”

“Graham,” Auntie said in a warning tone from beside him.

Fergus came back from his tangent at once. “Anyway, I was in a silly mood that day and Ian was taking forever. So I did a little something to entertain myself until Ian got there.”

“Oh, God,” Rose groaned, giggling. “What did you do?”

Fergus just smirked at her. “I did it and then waited for him to see. He didn't. I waited for him to ring me for a solid week. I couldn’t wait for his reaction, and finally gave up on him calling, but it was worth it when he did. I’d forgotten all about it when I picked up my mobile to hear, “You stupid so-and-so, did you stick bleep-bleep googly eyes on the bleeping uterus in my office?”

Ian laughed along with everyone else. “I took one look at it and knew who had done it. It looked like a muppet!”

Pete and Jackie laughed harder, but Rose just chuckled. Concerned, Ian’s laugh died and he swept over to her. “Sweetheart? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” she assured him, smiling brightly, then yawned. 

“She’s tired,” Jackie announced. 

“It’s been a long day,” Rose defended herself. 

“And you’re pregnant,” Ian reminded her. “You should go to bed.”

“Wait,” Auntie said, surprising him. “I have a gift for her, then we’ll get out of your hair. Graham, will you go to the car and get Rose’s gift?”

Fergus left obediently, and Ian asked Auntie, “What do you mean ‘get out of our hair’?”

“Pete offered to let us stay with him while we’re in town.”

“Pish posh,” Ian scoffed, mindful of not swearing. “You’ll stay with me, like you always do.”

“Son --”

“Please do stay,” Rose said from beside him. “I’d love to have a little more time with you before you go back.”

Ian looked back over to his aunt, who sighed. “Well, who am I to say no to the birthday girl?” He beamed, and Fergus came back in, handing Grace a gift. She took it, gave it a quick look, then handed it to Rose. “Happy birthday, dear. That’s from me.”

“Auntie, you really didn’t --”

“Shush, child. I know I didn’t have to. I wanted to. Now open it up.”

Grace had a seat in Ian’s chair, across from Rose, and Ian sat down in the chair that had been placed next to his sweetheart earlier in the night. Rose tore the paper off the gift, opened the box, and pulled out a beautiful silk scarf in the infinity style that was currently popular. 

“I thought you may be able to use that, in case you want to nurse the baby in public. It can pull double duty, form and function.”

“It’s gorgeous. Thank you so much.”

“There’s more,” Auntie said, nodding her head a little towards the package, and Rose lifted the tissue paper. When she did, she, Ian, and Fergus all gasped a little. 

At the bottom of the box was a pair of sapphire earrings that Ian had seen Auntie wear a hundred times if she’d worn them once. She’d had them ever since he could remember, and now they were lying on his sweetheart’s lap. 

“Auntie --” he started, but she ignored him. 

“They match the scarf, of course, but that’s not why I’m giving them to you. My aunt Hattie gave those to me when I turned twenty-five. They were hers, and she said they’d always brought her luck, and she wanted to pass that good fortune along to me. I didn’t think I’d ever have someone to pass them along to, but here you are, turning twenty-five. And all I ask of you is that you promise me you’ll gift those to young Eleanor when she turns twenty-five, as well.”

Rose nodded vigorously, eyes watering. “Yes ma’am. I promise.” She struggled to get to her feet, Ian supporting her as best he could, and she waddled over to Auntie, hugging her tight. 

“Happy birthday, dear.”

“Thank you, Auntie.”

Pete and Jackie looked at each other and got to their feet. “I think we’re going to head back home, let you guys rest.”

“You don’t have to go, Mum,” Rose said as she wiped her eyes - just before she yawned. There was no more protest after that, just hugs and shaken hands, then Jackie and Pete left. Rose wished a goodnight to Fergus and Auntie, then excused herself to shower before bed. Ian told them to make themselves at home before he followed her, and he heard Auntie telling Fergus to get their overnight bags out of the car they’d hired. 

As soon as he and Rose were out of sight and earshot of any guests, she leaned over against him, resting her head on his shoulder. He let go of her hand and put his arm around her, kissing her forehead. 

“Are you alright, sweetheart?”

“I’m just tired. Ready for bed.”

He led her to the en suite. “Why don’t you take a shower and relax? I’m going to get Auntie and Fergus settled in, then we’ll go to bed.”

“You don’t have to, you can stay up with them --”

He pulled her to a stop in the bathroom, cupping her face in his hands and kissing her softly. His cock stirred but there was no way he’d ever consider making a move on her tonight, not as tired as she was. 

“Take your shower, sweetheart. You always feel better after a bath. Relax. I’m going to put Auntie in the other bedroom and I’ll be back, alright? If you need me, just yell. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Ian kissed her sweetly one more time, then got the water started for her shower and grabbed her pyjamas while she undressed. It took a tremendous force of will not to drag her to the bed when she was standing there in front of him naked, but he kissed her softly again and told her he’d be just outside the door, then left before his traitorous cock made itself known. 

As he’d told Rose, he left their bedroom to get Fergus and Auntie situated, but he didn’t have to go far. They were standing at the doorway to the nursery, looking in. He remembered suddenly that this was the bedroom Auntie usually took when she stayed with him, and her tears alarmed him, but she smiled at him and he relaxed. A bit.

Fergus nodded his head towards the open door. “This Eleanor’s room?”

“It is.”

"Where's the bairn going to sleep?"

"Haven't you ever been around a baby? They'll sleep absolutely anywhere."

His cousin gave him a look. "Seriously."

"Our room, for the first few weeks, in a bassinet we’ve yet to get,” he chastised himself. “Then in here, in her cot."

"Her cot is in a box."

Ian shrugged. "Gotta paint the walls first."

"Well, what are you waiting for?"

"Jesus, Fergus, you're worse than a woman!"

"And you're slow!"

"I've been… busy looking for something. Something we need."

"Oh?" Auntie looked around the room, taking in all of the boxes. “Looks like you have everything you need.”

He fought the urge to squirm. “It’s not that. It’s… something else.”

"If there's anything you need from Mam’s attic, I'd be glad to bring it down,” Fergus offered.

“No, it’s not something for Eleanor. It’s-” He heaved a great sigh. “It’s for Rose. I’ve been shopping for a ring. I want to propose.”

“So you _are_ going to marry her,” Auntie said, sounding a bit smug.

“I’d marry her tomorrow, if I could. Ideally we’d be married before the baby comes, but she deserves better than a rushed ceremony. She deserves the ring and the dress and the cake and all the pomp and circumstance that goes with a big wedding. I’m determined to ask her before her water breaks, and I’ve been looking everywhere, it seems. But I just can’t…” He shook his head and sighed. “Nothing that I’ve found feels right, you know? I want a ring that _means_ something. Not some bauble I bought from a big box store that hundreds of other women have one just the same.” Ian sighed again and looked up at Fergus. “I had thought about asking you for Gran’s ring, but --”

“You can have it.”

“What?”

His cousin’s broad shoulders moved up and down in a motion Ian didn’t believe for one moment was casual. “Let’s be honest, I’m never going to use it.”

“Fergus…” He swallowed around the lump in his throat. “I can’t.”

Auntie clicked her tongue. “You don’t have to.” She lifted the purse hanging from her shoulder and rummaged through it for a moment before pulling out a small velvet bag. 

Ian was astounded that she didn’t weigh it in her hand for a moment before passing it to him, seemingly unaffected by the magnitude of what she’d just done. He couldn’t bring himself to open it, his eyes moving from Fergus to Auntie and back again. His voice was barely a whisper when he said, “It's supposed to go to you.” 

“Open the bag,” Auntie prompted him gently.

He loosened the string holding the bag closed and tipped it into his open palm. The ring that slid out definitely wasn’t their gran’s, but it was clearly antique. Three cushion-cut diamonds were nestled into a filigree setting that managed to hold the large stones, yet still look dainty. Waves of nostalgia crashed against his memory, and he knew he’d seen it before - although not in many, many years. He wondered --

"It was your mam's," she supplied helpfully while he stared at the ring, dumbstruck. "You were just a boy, so Thomas might not have told you, or you might not remember. Your father proposed to her with that ring in Italy, when she took him home to meet her family. He asked her father for permission, then took her out onto a hillside outside town and proposed.” Auntie chuckled. “Your mother said that he tried to ask her in Italian, but messed up his translation and asked her to be his millstone instead.” 

Ian didn’t laugh, he was too overcome. “I didn’t even know you had this.”

“Well, there was no reason for you to know, until now. I've been holding onto it, hoping you'd meet the right girl. Now you have. Rose and Isabel are of a size. It should fit.” He started to thank her, and she closed her hand over his hand and the ring. “Your uncle, if he were here, would tell you that when you meet a girl like that, you put a ring on her finger before she can run away from you. I’m of a mind to agree. You ask her father for permission, then ask Rose to marry you.”

“Auntie, Rose isn’t a possession, she’s not something to be traded between me and Pete…”

She squeezed his hand and her eyes were stern. “Dougan would have told you to ask for permission to marry her, and I’m telling you the same. Do with that what you will.”

Ian knew that he’d be having a talk with Pete on the next pool night, to respect his surrogate parents’ wishes. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you, Auntie. For this - for everything.”

Grace pulled him down into a hug. “I’m proud of you, son.”

He blinked against the tears that threatened. “Thank you.” She patted his cheek affectionately. Suddenly finding himself in a hugging sort of mood, he threw his arms around Fergus as well. “Thank you.”

“Anything for my brother.” 

Ian clapped him on the back to try to fight back the tears, then bid them goodnight and went into his and Rose’s bedroom. The water was no longer running in the shower and he could hear the hairdryer going. He knew didn’t have long before she came out to bed, but he was still a mess of emotions. The ring glinted in his hand and he stared down at it, misty-eyed. He had so few things that had belonged to his parents, and to now have _this_... the ring that had started their life together… He sniffled and wiped his eyes. 

He had promised to love Rose for the rest of his life. Getting married would be a formality, really, but oh, how he wanted it. He wanted to see her in a white gown walking down an aisle and hear her profess to the world that she loved him and chose him, then put a ring on her finger that sealed that promise. He wanted to be able to introduce her as his wife. He wanted her to be Rose Docherty. He wanted to crawl into bed, curl around her, then wake up beside her every morning of his life. 

The hairdryer switched off in the bathroom, and Ian hurriedly wiped his eyes and dropped the ring back in the bag before he shoved it to the bottom of his pants drawer. Then he changed clothes quickly, pulling on his pyjamas and t-shirt just as Rose opened the door and came in, completely free of makeup, hair unstyled, wearing one of his band t-shirts with her pink, striped pyjama pants that didn’t match - and looking like a goddamn angel. He thought his heart may burst with love. 

“Are you ready for bed?” he asked, sounding a little croaky in his own ears.

“Yeah.”

He rounded the bed, helping her when she pulled down the covers, supporting her back while she climbed in bed, fluffing her pillows and making her smile. Once she seemed comfortable, he went to his side of the bed, crawled in and scooted over to her. 

“Do you want me to rub your back tonight, sweetheart?”

Rose shook her head. “No. I just want you to hold me.”

He wasn’t about to turn down _that_ request, so he put his arms around her, kissing her shoulder. “I love you, Rose.”

She sniffled. “I love you, too.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” she started, “it’s just… when I first landed here - well, honestly, any time in the past eight months or so - if you had told me I’d be celebrating my birthday with family and friends, and it would be a wonderful night that I’d treasure every moment of, I’d have called you a nutter. And if you’d told me someone would give me a family heirloom because they cared about me, I’d have laughed you out of the room. I just…” Her voice mwavered and he stroked her arm, trying to be soothing. Finally, she spoke again. “I just can’t believe all those people care about me.”

“They do,” he assured her. “They all love you. You are special to every one of the people who was here tonight, every one of them is grateful for you. They love you almost as much as I love you.”

“I know. And I love you, too.”

He kissed her softly then let her roll back into her comfortable position. And as he drifted off to sleep, he rehearsed a speech for Pete that would hopefully win him Rose’s hand in marriage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Auntie's gift:  
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> Ian's mother's ring:  
> 
> 
> We have FOUR pieces of fanart for you today...yes, FOUR!! It's amazing!! In alphabetical order by user name...
> 
> From BadWolfGeek:  
> 
> 
> From Blamm71:  
> 
> 
> And these two from Rose--Nebula:  
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> 
> 
> Thank you ladies SO MUCH!!!! <3 <3 We love it - and you - so much!!


	72. Chapter 72

1 May 2012  
Week Thirty-Six

Rose sighed as she accepted Henry’s hand to get out of the car at Ian’s office. He’d texted her just a few minutes before to tell her that he’d been called to the hospital for an emergency and he’d have to miss her weekly appointment this time. She really shouldn’t be cross about it, she supposed. He hadn’t missed a single minute of a single appointment since they confirmed she was pregnant, and his job was demanding. He had to have rearranged other patients for her, but he couldn’t do that all the time. She was going to have to take a backseat sometimes, and that was okay. 

Margaret checked her in and Rose was escorted back and to the exam room by Dr. Ross’ nurse, Brandi. She accepted the offered gown with a smile, then put it on and climbed on the table, waiting for Dr. Ross. Very soon, there was a quick knock on the door and Dr. Ross stepped inside, closing the door behind herself. 

“Good morning, Rose, how are y-” She froze, looking confused. “Where is Docherty?”

“I figured you would know. He had to go to the hospital for an emergency.”

“Hmm. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without him.”

Rose stroked circles on her belly and ducked her head a little, flushing. “Yeah, we’re together more often than not. I’m hoping he’ll show up, but not holding my breath.”

Dr. Ross gave her a kind smile. “He’ll be here as soon as he can, I’m sure. Now. How are you feeling?”

She answered the doctor’s questions honestly, describing her low back pain and the Braxton Hicks contractions she was having fairly often, but left out her discomfort when she and Ian made love. It was getting worse, but she still didn’t want to call a halt to their fun. She told herself that if it _continued_ to get worse, she’d tell him or Dr. Ross. But for now, she still wanted to be able to please her bloke as best she could. 

When the time came, Rose lay back for Dr. Ross to do the pelvic exam. Usually she had Ian murmuring to her, soothing her, but since he wasn’t here today, she stared at the ceiling. Dr. Ross made a humming sound, though, catching Rose’s attention. Dr. Ross’ forehead and eyebrows were screwed up in thought, but she didn’t say anything before she ended the exam and turned to dispose of the glove and wash her hands. 

“Rose,” she started when she was drying her hands, then helped Rose sit up. “How often did you say you’re having the Braxton Hicks?”

“It’s irregular, I never really know. A couple times an hour, I’d suppose.”

“Sex has gotten uncomfortable for you, hasn’t it?”

Rose’s eyes widened and she flushed, stammering. “I… we…”

Dr. Ross misunderstood Rose, but smiled kindly. “It’s alright, Rose. It’s clear the two of you are in a relationship, and sex is part of that. You’re having a child together, so this has been going on for at least nine months. I’m not stupid.”

Her face was flaming and she felt near tears, but she shook her head. “It’s… complicated. Ian and I weren’t in a relationship until a few weeks ago. Eleanor… she was conceived before I met Ian.”

“With an alien,” Dr. Ross said, a little dry. 

Rose bristled. “Yes.” She was deeply conflicted: on one hand, she was defensive about her relationship with the Doctor. On the other hand, now that she was with Ian, she wished she could give a different answer and felt sad that he hadn’t been the one to help create Eleanor. 

Her distress must have shown on her face. Dr. Ross patted her on the shoulder. “It’s okay, Rose, honestly. I’ve heard Docherty refer to himself as ‘daddy’. I don’t know why you started telling this story about a bloke from space with two hearts, but -”

“Because it’s _true!_ ” Rose spat, pulling away from the patronizing patting on her shoulder, angry tears spilling over. Eleanor squirmed, and she wished for Ian. “I’m not making anything up! Ian _is_ Daddy, since he’s the man who’s going to raise Eleanor, but she wouldn’t exist without the Doctor, okay? So stop calling me mad or a fucking liar!”

Dr. Ross raised her hands and shushed Rose, trying to calm her down, and Rose buried her face in her hands, sobbing. She felt Dr. Ross’s hand return to her shoulder. 

“I’m sorry, Rose -”

“I thought you believed me,” Rose snuffled. “I was so relieved to have a doctor taking care of Eleanor and me who believed me, and so grateful to Ian for recommending you…”

“I do believe you,” she said, and Rose’s head jerked up so she could eye the doctor warily. “I do. If you say it, I believe it. It’s just been confusing, seeing you and Docherty over the last few months…”

She tapered off, leaving the door open for Rose, who took it. “Ian and I met a few weeks before I found out I was pregnant. We became friends, then became even closer after I found out about the baby. I was shocked to realize I was in love with him this past winter. But our romantic relationship didn’t actually start until a few weeks ago.” 

“I’m sorry, Rose,” she repeated. “I never should have doubted you.”

Rose sniffled, nodding an acceptance, and Dr. Ross squeezed her shoulder before she changed the subject. “Given what you’ve just told me, I really hate what I have to tell _you_.”

“Is something wrong?” Rose demanded, afraid.

Dr. Ross shook her head. “No, no, no. You’re fine, the baby is fine. But your body is starting to prepare to give birth.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’re forty percent effaced and two centimeters dilated.”

She gaped at her doctor. “I’m going into labor?”

Dr. Ross smiled kindly. “No, you’re a ways off from there. But your body is making itself ready and, considering you’re still four weeks from your due date, I think it would be best to put you on pelvic rest until you deliver.”

Rose felt like deflating. She thought she knew, but asked anyway. “What does that mean?”

“No sex of any kind for you. No orgasms and nothing inserted into the vagina. I’m not going to put you on bedrest or anything like that, but I do encourage you to take it extremely easy. Rest as much as you can, preferably with your feet up. This would be a good time to binge-watch some programs you like. Docherty knows all the rules, of course. He’ll be able to guide you.”

She nodded. Ian would certainly know what all of that meant much better than she did, but she dreaded telling him that they couldn’t have sex until Eleanor was six weeks old. He was going to be so disappointed, and she felt her eyes prickle with tears. 

“Okay?” Dr. Ross asked, and Rose plastered on a smile while she nodded.

“Yep. Great,” she lied, and managed to keep herself together until the door closed behind Dr. Ross on the way out. Once she was alone, she wept.

~*~O~*~

Ian congratulated the couple in front of him on their new baby girl, feeling the tiniest twist of envy that he tamped down with the sure knowledge that his day was coming soon, then made his way to the nurse’s station to do his chart before he finally blew this place off for the day. His call had ended half an hour ago, at five, but it was unprofessional to hand off a patient right in the middle of delivery, so he’d stuck it through. Now, though, he was able to go home to Rose for a few minutes before they went to Pete’s for dinner and pool. He was anxious to hear about her appointment, since he’d been forced to miss it, and hoped he’d get to make it up to her somehow. But for now, he had to finish this chart.

He barely acknowledged Joan sitting there, other than a minute nod. 

“You’re next, Doctor!” exclaimed one of the nurses nearby happily. He recognized the voice as Harriet, a nurse who’d been around long before he started his residency and was probably due for retirement soon. But she was capable, wise, and one of the kindest souls in the hospital - someone else, like him, who genuinely enjoyed bringing babies into the world and didn’t just see what they did as a job. He always enjoyed working with her. 

“I’m sorry?” He asked, looking up from the chart.

Harriet nodded her head towards the labor and delivery room he’d just left. “That’ll be you soon, up here with that wife of yours and a newborn of your own.”

He grinned, couldn’t help it. There was no point correcting her that Rose wasn’t his wife - that rumor was well-ingrained now, and only a handful of people seemed to know the truth - that they weren’t married. Yet.

“Yes, that’ll be us before long, but not too soon. She’s not due until the end of the month, and it’s her first. So several weeks, most likely. If I were in a pool, I’d lay my money on June 5.”

Harriet scoffed. “You know perfectly well that baby will be here whenever she’s good and ready, and you have no say in the matter. Are you ready for her, at least?”

“Just about,” he said, reaching for his phone that had just beeped. “Still have to put Eleanor’s nursery together.” His words trailed off when he saw that it was Henry who had called. The driver had never rang Ian before, and he felt a flash of alarm. As quickly as he could, he finished the chart and filed it. “I have to go. You lot have a quiet evening, alright?”

All of the nurses, including a crestfallen-looking Joan, returned his wave, and he got on the lift, pulling out his mobile. He pressed the button to return Henry’s call and waited impatiently for the other man to pick up. 

“Henry Wells.”

“Henry, this is Ian. You rang?”

“Yes, sir. I think you need to check on Rose. She seemed… agitated a little while ago.”

“What happened?” he demanded, walking faster towards the car park. 

“She seemed quiet after her appointment, and her eyes were red, but she wouldn’t talk to me about it. She said she just wanted to go home. I suggested she ring you, but she said you had an emergency.”

“I did.”

“I took her home, as she asked, and encouraged her to take a nap, telling her it may make her feel better. She thanked me, then a couple hours later, she rang me asking me to come pick her up and take her to the cottage.”

“To the cottage?”

“Yes, sir. She wouldn’t talk to me, just said she had some stuff to get done for the baby.”

“At the _cottage?_ ”

“Yes, sir. And when I suggested ringing you, she snapped at me.”

Oh, shit. Seemed him missing her appointment that morning had been a bigger deal than he’d realized.

“Is she okay?”

“I’m sitting outside the cottage, listening for her. She turned her mother away a few minutes ago. She’s been in there about an hour.”

Ian jumped into his SUV and cranked it, thanking Henry and asking him to stay with her until he got there. Then he peeled out of the car park, headed for the mansion as fast as he could.

~*~O~*~

He didn’t call out for her when he unlocked the door to the cottage and let himself in. Something about the air felt heavy, repressive, and he thought, in this case, it may be better to exercise extreme caution until he figured out just what was going on. 

Rose wasn’t in the lounge, nor in the kitchen, but he finally heard her stomping around in the second bedroom. Slowly, doing his best to prepare himself for whatever he may find, he made his way back there. 

She was painting, vigorously dragging the roller up and down the wall, her eyes swollen and her nose red. She’d clearly been crying and the exercise of painting was too vigorous for her right now, but he suppressed the instinct to rush forward and take the roller out of her hand. Instead, he took a slow step inside the small bedroom. 

“Sweetheart? What are you doing?”

She scoffed. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m painting the baby’s room.”

He took a step forward. “This cottage isn’t your home anymore, remember? You live with me now. Eleanor’s room is there.”

“Is it?” she said, and there was something false, almost mocking about her voice. “That’s funny. All I know of is a green room for this baby girl, and there’s no furniture in it, just boxes.”

Ian cursed under his breath. She’d been after him for two weeks to paint the nursery, but every time he’d had the time or inclination to do it, something came up. He’d had no idea it was bothering her this much. 

“Sweetheart, stop,” he said, stepping forward and reaching for the roller. “You don’t have to do this.”

Rose snatched the roller away from him and went back to painting, seemingly unconcerned. “ _Some_ body’s got to get a room ready. And I told you months ago that I wanted Eleanor’s space to be created by the people who love her.” She snorted. “I guess it’s plain to see that’s not you.”

It felt like she’d kicked him right in the center of the chest. He couldn’t breathe, all he could do was gape at her. When he was finally able to form words, he said, “Sweetheart -”

“ _Don’t_ ,” she said, spinning on her heel and pointing the pink-painted roller at him. Ian raised his hands, as if to show he was unarmed, “call me ‘sweetheart’. You don’t get to call me that.”

“It’s what I’ve always called you.”

“That was back when I believed you loved me.”

His hands dropped, and so did his caution. “When you fucking _what_?”

“You heard me. I believed you loved me. Oh, I fell for it, stupid little me. I wanted you to love me so badly, me and my daughter. Now I know better.”

“How could you ever _possibly_ fucking think -” 

“If this baby came tomorrow, we wouldn’t have anywhere to put her, Ian! Nowhere! We’d have to put her in a fucking box or something!”

Ian took a deep breath and counted to three. This was hormones. He knew it, he’d been dealing with it for twenty-five years, although he’d never dealt with them like _this_. All he needed to do was calm her down…

“Sweetheart -”

“ _What did I fucking tell you?_ ” she shrieked. “And don’t. Don’t you fucking _dare_ try to talk me down, saying it’s all in my head or whatever. I’m not willing to let my baby sleep in a fucking laundry basket because her father is too lazy to paint her room!’

He ground his teeth, doing his best not to be angry. “Rose -”

“Get out. I don’t even want to fucking look at you right now.”

“I’m not - “

“ _I SAID GET OUT!_ ”

Hurt, confused, angry, and feeling utterly defeated, Ian turned from the room and left the cottage. He went to the mansion, letting himself in, and didn’t even bother looking for Pete on his way to the billiards room. Before he racked the balls, though, he poured himself a couple fingers of scotch and downed them right away. 

He wasn’t paying any attention to what balls he was aiming at, he was just mindlessly shooting when Pete came in a few minutes later. His best friend didn’t say anything and neither did Ian, but it didn’t matter. Pete had been close to Ian for almost thirty years - sometimes words weren’t necessary. That fact was proven when Pete poured another scotch and handed it to him. “Drink up.”

Ian did. He threw his head back, praying that the alcohol would soothe his nerves, and when he put the empty tumbler down on the sideboard, Pete was racking the balls again. He waited for Pete to ask after Rose, or demand to know what was troubling him, but the other man never asked and Ian was grateful. He’d intended to ask for Rose’s hand tonight, but _that_ idea was off the table. He was desolate, and started wondering how long he should wait before trying to talk to Rose again.

After just a couple minutes of distracted playing, Ian’s mobile played Rose’s ringtone. He pulled it out and looked at it for just a second before he answered it - cautiously. “Hello?”

“I’m so sorry,” Rose sobbed on the other end of the line. “I’m the worst girlfriend in the world, I’m so sorry…”

Ian didn’t even think about saying anything to Pete, he just told Rose he’d be right there, leaned his stick against the table, and took off running out of the room, down to the cottage. Once there, he unlocked the door and ran in, looking this way and that, calling for her. “Rose?”

She lumbered out of the back bedroom, sobbing. “Ian…” she started, then broke down again. He didn’t wait half a second before he rushed to her, sweeping her into his arms and pulling her close. 

“I’m sorry,” she cried, bawling into his chest, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it…”

“Shhh, sweetheart,” he soothed her, swaying her back and forth. “It’s alright.”

“It’s not alright,” she insisted. “I said horrible things to you.”

He led her into her old bedroom and over to the bed they’d shared platonically so many times, helping her to lie down before he cradled her as close as a heartbeat, shushing her again. 

“I love you, sweetheart, and I love Eleanor. I’m sorry I missed your appointment today and upset you.”

“That’s not it,” she said, snuffling against his chest. “You had to work. I’m not upset about that.”

He tried again. “I’ll paint this weekend, sweetheart, I swear. By the time we go to bed Sunday night, Eleanor’s room will be painted.”

“That’s not it, either. Well, not entirely. I never should have talked to you that way.”

“It’s alright, Rose.”

“It’s not alright. I just love you so much, Ian, and I’m so scared you’re going to leave me.”

He chuckled. “You _never_ have to fucking worry about that. Wild horses couldn’t drag me away from you, sweetheart.”

Her voice was low and tentative. “Even if I can’t have sex with you?”

Ian’s face screwed up in confusion and he peered down at her. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“We can’t have sex,” she told him, her lip quivering and eyes watering. “I’m on pelvic rest. And I just knew you would -”

“Rose Tyler, if you lie there and tell me that you thought I would leave you because we can’t have sex -”

He didn’t get to finish, she burst into tears. He, however, couldn’t help but laugh a little. 

“You daft thing,” he said gently, stroking her back. When she calmed a little, he tipped her chin up to him. “Making love to you is wonderful, Rose. The way it is with you… it’s never been like that for me before, and I know it’s because I’m desperately in love with you. But if you told me tonight you never wanted to have sex again, I’d respect that - and stay with you. I wouldn’t fucking think twice about committing myself to a life of celibacy to be with you, sweetheart. I’m _certainly_ not going anywhere because of a measly few weeks.”

“Yeah?”

He smiled at her and kissed the tip of her red nose. “Yeah. I don’t need sex to be happy, Rose. Do you want to know what I need?”

“What?”

“I need you to let me hold you at night. I need you to tell me you love me - any old time it pops in your head. I need your smiles. I need our daughter to be healthy...and to give Daddy her first smile.” Rose laughed, and he stroked her cheek. “I need you and Eleanor, sweetheart. That’s all I need in this world to be happy.”

“I love you, Ian.”

“I love you, too, Rose.” He stroked her hair away from her face and kissed her softly, smiling and murmuring nonsense to soothe her. When she was calmer and nuzzled into his arms, he kissed her one more time and relaxed a little, himself. “Tell me about your appointment today, sweetheart. Why are you on pelvic rest?”

“I’m dilated two centimeters and a little effaced. I think she said forty percent. Is that alright?”

“Yes, sweetheart, it’s fine. Just your body getting ready to deliver her. It takes a long time, and some women dilate a little early. She’s fine in there, don’t worry.”

“Dr. Ross was sorry to put me on pelvic rest, in light of our… relationship.” Ian felt Rose tense a little and it made him tense, as well. “Did you know she thought we’d been together since last summer? That the baby -” Rose hesitated.

“Eleanor _is_ mine, sweetheart.”

“Yes, she is. But not like Dr. Ross thought she was, not genetically. Did you know she thought that?”

He blew out his cheeks, angry and trying to keep his calm. “I did. I’ve tried to explain -”

“Don’t,” Rose said, reaching up and stroking his cheek. “It doesn’t matter what she thinks, what anyone thinks. You don’t have to convince her of anything. I told her about you and me today, and how we’d only really been a couple for a month. But if she doesn’t believe it, I don’t care, yeah? You and I know the truth, we know that we’re a little family, and as long as Eleanor gets the care she needs, that’s all that matters.”

Still furious but trying to simmer down for Rose’s sake, he said, “Yeah.”

Rose stroked his chin and got his attention. “I love you, Ian Docherty.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart.”

She smiled and snuggled into his arms just a little deeper, and Ian held her that way until she fell asleep. He didn’t sleep, though, he laid awake and seethed. He couldn’t fucking wait to get to work the next morning.


	73. Chapter 73

2 May, 2012

Ian was quiet in his fury as he made his way to Christine’s office, the only external indicators of how angry he was being the fists clenched by his sides and the muscle clenching in his jaw. He nodded to the nurses who spoke to him as he wound through the office, but didn’t speak or smile and one by one, their own smiles faded and dropped off their faces. 

When he got to Christine’s office, Brandi was standing in front of the desk, talking to her. Heedless, Ian walked right in and stood at the door with his arm extended, silently commanding her to leave. The young woman looked back and forth between the two doctors, then nodded and left with her head down. Ian watched her go, waited until she was gone, then slammed the door and spun around to face Christine. 

His colleague was making to stand, her hands up. “Docherty…”

Ian leaned across the desk, staring her back down into her seat, bracing himself on her desk. His voice was deadly calm but practically vibrating with anger when he said, “Do you have any idea - _any_ idea - what you’ve done?”

“I crossed a line,” she conceded.

“Oh, do you fucking _think?_ ”

“I apologized to Rose.”

“Not nearly enough,” Ian growled. “You should fucking grovel, and even if you did, I _still_ might have your fucking job. You know me, but clearly that’s not enough. Do you know her father? He could buy half of the EU on his own. I’d just bring fucking Switzerland to the table. Rose is his only daughter and Eleanor is his only grandchild. What do you think he’s going to have to say about what you hurting and humiliating Rose?”

“I’ll be happy to apologize to Rose again -”

“I fucking told you, Christine. I told you before you even met her that Rose wasn’t capable of that kind of deception. And she’s never lied to you. Every word she’s told you has been gospel fucking truth. What’s it going to take for you to believe her, huh?”

“I believe her.”

“I’m certain that Torchwood is going to want to do DNA testing on Eleanor once she’s born. Is that what you need? Salt in my wound? You need to see in black and white that my daughter’s DNA doesn’t match mine? Because you’ll have that evidence in less than two months.”

Dr. Ross hung her head for a second, rubbing her forehead and sighing, then looked up. “I deserve this. I deserve worse than this and I know it. It was the single most unprofessional thing I’ve ever done in a twenty-year career. Is she alright?”

“We had ...a rough night,” Ian allowed. 

“I truly am sorry.”

It was Ian’s turn to heave a sigh. “She’s weeks away from delivering her first baby. Naturally, she’s a hormonal disaster. What you said just tripped her trigger. But she told me not to bollock you as I was walking out the door this morning. She fucking likes you.”

“Good. I like her, too. She’s been good for you.”

“She’s been fucking amazing for me,” Ian agreed. “She and Eleanor are the best things that ever happened to me.”

“I know Rose is anxious about the birth,” Ross started, “but are you?”

“Me?” he scoffed. “I’ve delivered thousands of babies!”

“But this one is yours, and you’re not delivering. You’re my friend, Ian, believe it or not, and I worry about you. If you’re nervous about impending fatherhood, I’m sure one of your friends would reassure you.”

Ian couldn’t see him ringing up any of his acquaintances and asking them to talk him down. Besides, he didn’t need to be talked down, did he?

“I know I’ve said it and there’s nothing I can do now, but for what it’s worth, I _am_ sorry. And if you need to talk to someone about what’s going to happen over the next few weeks, I’m here.”

“Thanks,” he muttered, then left, feeling deflated instead of righteous, the way he’d expected to feel at the end of this meeting.

~*~O~*~

6 May 2012

In bed the night after her meltdown, Ian told Rose that he’d paint that weekend, but it shouldn’t take more than an afternoon. She tried to protest, knowing better, but he was adamant that he knew what he was doing and it wouldn’t take long. Eleanor’s nursery would be put together in no time, he said. Rose was extremely dubious, but just kissed him and nuzzled closer. 

He started Friday evening when he got home from work, and, before he ran her out, insisting that she relax, he’d been making tentative plans for Sunday, since it would be free. With any luck, he said, he’d finish the painting Saturday afternoon and he’d be able to build the cot on Sunday. 

She could tell that optimism had disappeared by the time Saturday evening rolled around. He was still working, having only taken the breaks that she’d demanded he take, and he wasn’t quite done. The primer over the green walls had taken much, much longer than he’d expected. He’d still been putting primer on late Saturday morning and letting it dry while they ate lunch downstairs and she tried to lift his sagging mood. By the time he’d gone to bed Saturday night, there had only been three walls sporting their first coat of pink paint. Rose was just keeping silent. He took a shower while grumbling and came to bed still grumbling. She wrapped him up in her arms, kissed him, told him she loved him, and fell asleep holding him. 

Now on Sunday afternoon, Rose stood in the hallway where Ian couldn’t see her, giggling to herself silently at his running monologue about fucking painting. She’d known him for the better part of a year now, and she’d seen him at all levels of frustration, but she’d he’d never heard him swear like _this_. Eleanor could hear him, too, and squirmed at the sound of his voice - like she so often did. Rose smiled and stroked her belly. Not even born yet and already a daddy’s girl - even when Daddy was in a temper.

As she did every day, she wondered about a way to ask Ian if he intended to adopt Eleanor and make it legal without making it sound like she was pushing him to do it. There was nothing she wanted more, but she was afraid of backing him into a corner. It would have to be his decision to make Eleanor legally his daughter or not and if he didn’t want to, she’d have to accept that. In fact, she was trying to brace herself for the likelihood that he’d want to be her father in name only, and _not_ legally. But there were a few weeks left. There was still time, and Rose was sure she’d figure out the right thing between now and then. There was no need to worry herself over it just yet. 

Ian’s agitated voice came from inside the room. “You have one function, you son-of-a-bitching roller, and you can’t even fucking get that right! It’s a good fucking thing I’m wearing denims, because I’m certain you’d be trying to fuck me, you little paint-covered bastard!”

Rose finally snorted out loud, unable to hold her giggles anymore, and Ian stepped out of the doorway. He was wearing some ratty trainers he’d said he used to run in, his oldest denims (that fit just a little snug, which Rose quite appreciated), a holey t-shirt from some training conference he’d gone to in ‘97, and many, many smears and/or splatters of pink paint all over each item of clothing and the skin that was on display. There was even paint in his unruly hair. He held the faulty roller in his hand and looked cross. It made Rose giggle harder, and she saw his eyes twinkle just a bit, although his expression never changed. 

“Having fun?”

She giggled harder, helpless to do anything else, holding her belly and bending over a bit. Ian, still chagrined, rolled his eyes with lip quirked and went back into the nursery. Rose got herself together and followed, walking up behind him and slipping her arms around his waist, pressing kisses to his shoulders. Ian laid one hand over the place hers joined on his belly and squeezed them. 

“You’re going to get paint all over yourself, sweetheart.”

“I don’t care,” she told him, still pressing kisses to his shoulders, wishing the shirt wasn’t in her way. She didn’t quite have the nerve to pull it up and off, but she did slide her hands under the front of his shirt, spreading her fingers to touch more of his smooth skin, loving the way he felt. She didn’t want to stop touching him, ever, and she went up on her toes and tugged him backwards just a little so her lips could reach his neck and started planting wet, open-mouth kisses to the skin above his collar. 

Ian’s his voice was husky. “Sweetheart…”

“What?” she murmured innocently as she nipped his neck in an anything-but-innocent way. 

He dropped the roller and turned in her arms so her hands were on his back. Before she could react, he’d caught her mouth and was kissing her near-desperately, one hand on the side of her face and the other on her hip, clutching her. His tongue plundered her mouth and she would have smiled, had she been able to, but she was too busy trying to catch his tongue to suck it. 

Long fingers mussed her hair and she reveled in it, loving the feel of his fingertips against her scalp. Deciding to egg him on, she let one of her hands abandon the task of kneading his back and brought it around to the front of his denims, cupping him. She bit her lip, pleased, when he broke the kiss suddenly and made a strangled sound. The tightening of his hand on her hip didn’t discourage her from stroking him outside the jeans. 

“Sweetheart,” he panted, even as he rocked his hips into her hand a little. “We can’t. You’re on pelvic rest.”

“ _I’m_ on pelvic rest,” she clarified, her fingers flying to the button and zip of his denims, freeing him. “You’re not. And it seems to me that you don’t _want_ to rest…” She dipped her hand inside his pants and gripped him, loving the sound of his gasp when her skin met his. Ian closed his eyes and laid his head back a little, groaning. Slowly but confidently, she started pumping him, watching lust war with duty on his gorgeous face, his eyes screwing up tight when she twisted her wrist. She was determined to win the battle he was engaged in, and upped her game. 

“You’ve been working so hard in here, handsome,” she purred, still pumping him. “I feel like you deserve a reward.”

“What kind of reward?” he asked in a strangled voice. 

“You know how you’re holding my hair right now?” she asked quietly, watching his face. “Gripping it tight? I love that. I want you to keep doing it while I suck you off.”

He groaned and Rose smirked, then started to go to her knees. Ian stopped her by gripping her upper arm and pulling her to standing. 

“No.”

Rose looked up into his now-open eyes, and they were more green than she’d ever seen them. Almost stormy. She couldn’t help but be hurt, though, at the denial.

“No?”

“You’re not going on your knees at nine months pregnant. Not to suck my cock.”

She put her hand on the back of his neck and pulled him down so she could kiss him, letting her tongue swirl around his, and then sucking it into her mouth, mimicking what she wanted to do to the hard shaft that was in her hand. When she let him go, she smiled against his lips. “But I _want_ to suck your cock.”

“Sweetheart --”

“Please, Ian?” she asked, using her thumb to spread the bead of precome on the tip of his cock before she remembered she’d wanted to taste it. 

He was panting, but managed to get out, “What about you? You can’t come...”

“Don’t worry about me. I get more than enough pleasure when you come for me, when I can feel you releasing in my mouth. I absolutely _love_ that. And I want to taste you,” she whispered in his ear, then pulled his earlobe between her teeth. “Please.”

He raised his head, looking away from her, and Rose thought for just a moment that she’d lost. Then he tugged the arm he’d grabbed to help her stand and led her over to the rocking chair that had just been delivered a few days before. She made to sit when they got there, but he kept her standing and attacked her mouth, kissing her with an urgency she also felt. To her delight, his hands went in her hair and she used her free hand to thread through his hair as well, scratching his scalp a little and making him moan. They broke the kiss and he all but attacked her neck, licking and nipping and sucking.

“I love you, sweetheart, I love you so much…”

She didn’t answer him directly, opting instead for spurring him on. “You know, I don’t know how you even fit in these tight denims when you’re so hard,” Rose purred. “ _Especially_ when you’re so hard. There’s no room… it’s bound to be uncomfortable… but I can help you with that.”

She pushed his denims and pants down to mid-thigh, giving herself (and him) more room, and Ian laid his forehead on her shoulder and whimpered when she stroked him faster. It gave her lips access to his neck, where she placed open-mouth kisses and inhaled his scent, marveling again that he was hers. But Rose was greedy. She wanted _more_ skin. To that end, she started tugging on his shirt, trying to get it over his head while she continued to stroke him. Ian caught on quickly and pulled the shirt off himself, catching her mouth and kissing her so hard she thought he may bruise her lips. Frankly, she wouldn’t mind if he did - but not until she did what she was dying to do. 

Rose broke the kiss and went to his chest, licking and kissing the skin, avoiding his still-healing tattoo except to press a soft kiss there and whisper that she loved him. The rest of him was fair game, and she worked her way downwards until she was close to the place her hand was pumping him, ringing her tongue around his belly button before she took a quick break to sit down in the rocker. 

“Sweetheart…”

“Hmm?”

“You don’t have to.”

She gave him the sultriest look she could manage. “I told you, I want to.”

“In the baby’s room?”

Rose smirked a little. “Doesn’t look much like a baby’s room right now.” He started to say something else and she stopped him. “It wouldn’t matter where we were.” She kissed the head of his cock. “I’ll always want you, Ian Docherty. Always.”

Before he could say anything in response she opened her mouth and engulfed him, twirling her tongue around and around the tip like she was licking a lolly. Ian threw his head back and groaned, his hands burying again in Rose’s hair and fisting there, making her smile around his cock. He swore, and Rose pulled off to look up at him. 

“That good?” 

He groaned in response and she smirked before she dipped her head below where her hand slid up and down his shaft, sucking one of his bollocks into her mouth. He made an unintelligible sound when she suckled it, then let it go with a little popping sound and took the other into her mouth. 

“Rose, _please_...” he pleaded, then he pulled out the secret weapon he didn’t even know he had - he started murmuring in Italian. 

In a blink she was back on his cock, bobbing quickly, sucking on every upstroke. One small hand moved with her mouth, helping her to stroke more of him, and the other cupped his balls, rolling them firmly but gently. He begged her in English and Italian, called her name, gave her filthy encouragements, used her hair to guide her while she pleasured him - and she soaked every bit of it up. It was completely empowering to know she was making him feel this way. 

His begging took on a note of desperation and Rose could tell he was getting close. She opened her throat as best she could and took him as far as her body would allow, moaning around him while she bobbed her head at this new depth. Ian’s hands tightened in her hair almost painfully and he cried out, exploding. She pumped him into her open mouth, letting him spurt across her tongue, savoring his taste. 

Ian was panting and trembling when he finally stopped coming, his head tilted back to the ceiling, whispering swear words. Rose just looked up at him, beaming, proud of herself. He surprised her when he sank to his knees in front of her, laying his head on her chest while he tried to catch his breath. Rose stroked his hair and bare back, loving him, wishing she could express how she felt and not sound stupid. 

After a minute he looked up at her, his eyes almost turquoise, and she smiled down at him. He grinned sheepishly then reached behind her for his t-shirt, using it to wipe her chin and around her mouth. 

“Sorry about that.”

“Don’t you ever be sorry. I loved it. I love _you_.”

He dropped the t-shirt and cupped her face with both hands, looking at her like he was searching for something. She did her best to show him everything. 

“You are the best thing that ever happened to me. I love you, Rose.”

“I love you, too.”

Ian placed a soft kiss on her lips then hugged her, pulling her as close as he could get her, and she thought the joy and love she felt for him may bubble over.

~*~O~*~

8 May 2012

Rose had been nesting for the last couple of days, working so intently that Ian had considered making her spend the time he was at work with her mother, whom he knew would keep her from overdoing it. He’d had to stop her from running the vacuum and from washing the windows, and it made him incredibly nervous to think of what she was getting up to when he wasn’t there. 

If there was one saving grace, it was that she was still having the back pain as well as Braxton Hicks and felt the need to rest often. As much as Ian detested seeing his sweetheart in pain, he was grateful that her own body wouldn’t let her do too much. 

He’d assumed that Rose would go with him to the mansion that night, since it was Tuesday and they’d been going together on Tuesdays for several months, but when he went to find her to tell her it was time to go, she was sitting on their bed, deep in a pile of pink laundry, folding tiny clothes and putting them in various baskets that were organized some sort of way Ian didn’t understand. Rose shooed him away, but his instinct was to stay behind and help her - at least keep an eye on her. However, he’d missed the chance to ask Pete for Rose’s hand last week, which meant he _had_ to do it tonight. So, after extracting a promise that she wouldn’t do anything more strenuous while he was gone than lift the laundry basket, he kissed her and went to his best friend’s house, feeling uneasy but determined.

In the SUV on the way, he contemplated what he was about to do, scoffing to himself a little. What a mindfuck, asking his best friend for permission to marry his daughter. It felt like the most surreal situation of his life. He had no idea how he’d ended up in this position, and what he was about to do was extremely uncomfortable, but Rose and Eleanor were worth so, so much more than his discomfort while asking Pete for her hand.

It was probably ridiculous, since Rose didn’t even consider Pete her father. Besides that, women weren’t items to be asked for and received. He absolutely didn’t regard her in that way, and the idea of his sweetheart being treated in such a manner was almost offensive. But Auntie had been right: if his Uncle Dougan were alive, he’d insist that Ian honor the tradition. Uncle Dougan would have adored Rose, Ian knew. And Ian was saddened that his uncle would never see Rose become his daughter-in-law, wouldn’t get to see Ian on the day he married the love of his life, and would never get to hold Eleanor, his granddaughter. There was so much that he was going to miss. Ian could do this for his uncle, even if it grated a bit.

He went into the mansion and found Pete practicing in the billiards room. The two men made small talk while they shot the first rack, but Ian’s answers were getting shorter and slower while he grew more nervous. Pete smirked every now and then, but Ian didn’t see it. He was practicing everything he wanted to say for the hundredth time. 

Finally, Pete asked, “Got something on your mind there, Ian?”

“I want to marry Rose,” he blurted, more than a little embarrassed by his lack of finesse. 

Pete just raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Fuck. This was not what he had intended, but he plowed ahead. It was too late to turn back now. “Yeah. Pete, you’ve got to fucking know by now how much I love her. She and Eleanor… they’re everything to me. I swear on my own fucking life to do anything and everything to keep them safe and happy as long as I live. I’d like your blessing, but to be honest, I’m going to ask her whether you approve or not. It’s just a fucking technicality at this point, anyway. I’ve pledged the rest of my life to her and Eleanor.”

Pete seemed to be enjoying himself, and Ian fought the urge to scowl. “So what are you saying?”

“Rose is not some object to be gifted from you to me and it grates to do this, but my uncle would have disowned me if I didn’t, so I’m asking you for permission to marry her.”

“I’m not the one you should be asking for permission,” Pete said, leaning back against the table and crossing his ankles. “You should be talking to Jacks.”

Ian refrained from rolling his eyes with great effort. Another fucking hoop to jump through. Fan-fucking-tastic. “Fine. When can I talk to Jackie?”

Pete picked up his phone and typed for a second. “As soon as she gets that message, I expect she’ll be here. She’s been waiting for this. I don’t think you’re going to have to worry about her blessing.”

That was a relief, and he felt himself relax just a little. “Seriously, Pete,” he started, looking earnestly at his best friend. “Rose and Eleanor are my family.”

“I know,” Pete agreed softly. “You were right, all those months ago,” he said. “This is nothing like Jenn. For what it's worth, you have my blessing to propose. But I’d still get Jackie’s, if I were you.”

Ian felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “Thank you. I will.”

“You rang for me, your highness?” Jackie snarked pleasantly, coming into the billiards room. 

Pete looked chagrined and put his arm around her waist. “Don’t be like that, darling. You know that’s not how it is.”

“How is it, then? What’s going on in here?”

“We were discussing the fact that Ian plans to propose to Rose.”

Ian threw up his hands. “Way to just drop the fucking bomb there, Pete.”

Pete ignored him. “He came to ask me permission. I told him he needed to ask you, not me.”

Ian felt his heart seize up. He was determined to marry Rose either way, but her mother’s approval would be important to Rose. Therefore, it was important to him. Pete had told him he didn’t need to worry, but he couldn’t help it. Anything that could stand in his path to Rose was worrisome.

Jackie smiled at him. “You’ve my blessing, although I suspect you’d have done it no matter what I said. Just know this...” She took a couple steps towards him, then jabbed a finger in the center of his chest. “Rose is my daughter and I mean to see that she has the wedding of her dreams, so if you two hie off and elope, I’m going to hunt you down and beat you severely.”

“Rose can have anything she wants,” Ian promised. “Anything at all.”

Jackie reached up and patted his cheek. “You’re a good egg, Ian Docherty. I’ll be proud to be your mother-in-law.”

Ian groaned a little bit and Jackie snorted, but Pete’s eyes lit up. “Say. That means I’ll be your father-in-law.”

“Yeah? And?”

“Now I can make you stop calling me ‘Ringo’.” 

Ian snorted. “Chance would be a fine thing.”

“When are you planning on asking?”

He swallowed a sip of his water. “Sunday. Although I’m tempted to ask her tonight, as soon as I walk in the door.”

“Why don’t you?”

“I have a plan.” 

Jackie looked as if something had occurred to her. “But… Sunday is Mothering Sunday.”

Ian grinned. “That’s part of the plan.”

~*~O~*~

Rose had propped every pillow against the head of the bed and fallen asleep with the telly remote in her hand, baskets of Eleanor’s clothes sitting around her, the telly still showing some documentary. He did his best to be quiet and not wake her - he’d get the pillows off of Fergus’ bed - and did well when he moved the baskets to the floor, but one of his shoes made noise when it hit the ground and she stirred. 

“Hey,” she greeted him sleepily.

“Hey, sweetheart. I’m sorry I woke you.”

“I didn’t mean to go to sleep. What time is it?”

“Half ten.”

She grunted a little at this information, then sat up and started pulling pillows out from behind her back to give back to Ian while he changed out of his clothes and into pyjamas, crawling into bed beside Rose. He leaned over her and kissed her softly, encouraging her to go back to sleep. It didn’t take long for her to do just that while Ian rubbed her belly and his mind swirled. Just as Rose started snoring steadily, Eleanor squirmed a little and Ian had an idea. 

He scooted down a little so he could talk to the baby, and spoke softly. 

“Can you hear me, Little Face?”

She wriggled under his hand and Rose stirred a little in her sleep. To be on the safe side, Ian switched to Italian. “ _Cosa penseresti se papà avesse chiesto a tua madre di sposarlo? Ho l'anello, ma prima voglio il tuo permesso._ ” Eleanor didn’t move, and Ian decided to prod her a little. “ _Dammi un colpetto se questo andrebbe bene_.”

Eleanor kicked enthusiastically, making him beam, even when Rose grunted. 

“Whatever you’re talking to her about, she agrees with you. Now leave her alone so I can bloody sleep.”

Ian chuckled, couldn’t help it, and pressed a kiss to Rose’s belly.


	74. Chapter 74

9 May 2012  
Week Thirty-Seven 

The woman on the table in front of him and her husband were holding hands excitedly, having just seen their baby-to-be in an ultrasound for the first time, and Ian couldn’t help but be reminded of himself and Rose. _Everything_ was reminding him of Rose today. It always did, of course, she was constantly on his mind, but today was special. The one-month anniversary since they’d confessed their love for each other in Glasgow had just passed, and Ian planned to take her out to dinner, then bring her home and pamper her excessively. He’d thought about taking her to Hyde Park and proposing to her there tonight instead of waiting til Sunday, getting down on one knee in the same spot he kissed her, but he wasn’t sure. He’d have to see how she felt, he supposed. 

“Everything looks good, Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins,” Ian told them. “Baby is due on 20 December --”

“Best Christmas gift ever,” Mr. Jenkins enthused, then kissed his wife. While that may have annoyed him before, he just thought about Rose again and smiled a little. 

There was a knock at the door, and before he could give it much thought, Clara’s head popped in. 

“Phone call for you, Doctor.” There was something to her voice, some quality that he didn’t like and it put him instantly on alert, even before she added, “You need to take it.”

His heart dropped to the vicinity of his feet and he felt the color drain from his face. Putting on the best smile he could manage, he told Mrs. Jenkins to schedule an appointment for two weeks from now and that he’d see her then - strongly suspecting he wouldn’t. 

Leaving Clara behind to finish sorting the Jenkinses, Ian dashed to his office and picked up the phone, pressing the blinking light on line three. 

“Docherty.”

“Ian, it’s Jackie.”

He thought he may die of fear, and choked out, “Jackie? What is it? Where’s Rose?”

“I just left your house. I went to have lunch with Rose, and she was contracting. I stayed as long as she’d let me but she eventually kicked me out. I think she’s in labor, but she didn't want to call you. She doesn’t want to bother you at work."

“Why the fuck not?” he demanded.

“Because Rose always wants to be brave.”

He closed his eyes. That much was true, and it scared him to death. He blew out his breath and looked at his watch. “I can leave in ten minutes. I need to make arrangements for rounds and call. That’ll put me there in about twenty minutes. Can she wait that long?”

"She's been having what she swears are Braxton Hicks contractions since late this morning, but it's her first baby. They’re coming regularly. You tell me, _doctor_."

“Fuck. I’m on my way.” He slammed the phone down and ripped off his lab coat, bellowing, “ _CLARA_!!”

“I’m here, I’m here,” she tried to soothe him, rounding the corner. “Is Rose in labor?”

“I think so. She’s been having regular contractions since this morning.”

“Uh-oh,” Clara said. “She’s early term, at least…”

Ian didn’t acknowledge her. “I’m leaving. Let Ross know what’s happened and where I am.”

Without another word he blew by her into the corridor, barely raising a hand in acknowledgement when Clara called out, “Good luck!” behind him. 

He’d never driven faster in his life than he did just then, breaking multiple traffic laws and not giving one iota of a fuck. 

The SUV skidded a little in the driveway of his house and he jumped out, running to the door. He threw it open and called Rose’s name but came to a stop just inside. On the hardwood floor of the kitchen was a puddle of fluid, with a trail of wet leading from it down the corridor. 

"Rose?!"

"I’m up here," she called from upstairs, and he dashed up the steps and down the corridor to their bedroom, spotting her immediately. Two pair of her maternity denims lay in the floor with wet patches between the legs, and she didn’t have any bottoms on now but held a pair in her hand, like he’d caught her in the middle of changing. Her eyes were worried. "I’m okay, but I’ve been having contractions and I think my water broke. Either that or I’m peeing on myself an awful lot," she joked, trying for levity.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Ian crooned and rushed forward, folding her into his arms. “Are you alright?”

"Every time I move, more water comes out. Is that normal?"

"Yes, that’s fine. You’re contracting?"

"I thought it was Braxton Hicks!" she cried, her voice holding an edge of panic.

Ian hushed her, stroking her face and kissing her lips gently. "No, sweetheart. The contractions you’re having now are the real thing. In a few hours, Eleanor will be here." 

“It’s too soon,” she cried into his shoulder, her arms going around his waist. He could feel her trembling, and he felt nearly desperate to soothe her. “I’m only thirty-seven weeks, Ian - it’s too soon!”

He started to speak but her whole body tensed and she clutched him. “Here comes another one,” she said, sounding strangled and afraid. Ian placed his hand on her belly and felt it tighten. Stroking her back rhythmically he murmured encouragement to her, counting off, demonstrating the breathing she needed to do. Within a minute, the contraction had passed and she stood straight, looking up at him with wet eyes. He placed a hand on her cheek and stroked his thumb across her cheekbone.

"I’ve delivered healthy babies several weeks earlier than this who came straight to the room. Everything is going to be just fine, sweetheart, I promise. But we need to get you to the hospital."

"I was packing my bag," she said, her voice wavering a little. "I thought I had more time."

"You sit on the bed and put your feet up. I have some maternity pads to catch the water. It’ll be fine.” 

“What about my bag?”

“I’m going to finish that up for you. It’s no big deal, Just throwing what we need into a bag. Gotta get my stuff too, right? Wouldn’t do for me to be running around L&D in my pants.” Rose giggled a little, as he’d hoped, and he took her hand into his, bringing it to his lips and kissing it reassuringly. “I’m going to page Dr. Ross and call your parents. While I do that, I’m going to finish packing. Alright?" Rose nodded, and he kissed her hand again. “I love you so much, sweetheart. We’re going to have a baby.”

Her eyes sparkled at him. “We’re going to have a baby.”

Ian kissed her lightly. "Go on, then. Get off your feet. When I get done, we’ll go to the hospital. Let me know if you have a contraction and I’ll be right there."

“Yeah, alright.”

She raised her lips to him again and he smiled when he kissed her, then led her to the bed, helping her to get settled. That done, he pulled his mobile out to make the necessary calls. Before he could, though, he heard her voice calling his name softly. He turned to look at her. 

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

“I’m scared.”

His heart melted and he went to her, unable to stop himself kissing her, doing his best to comfort her without words. Her hands went to his shoulders, and he cupped her face, looking into her big brown eyes, smiling at her a little to reassure her.

“I know you are, sweetheart, but everything is going to be alright. I’m going to be right beside you the whole time, and I won’t let anything happen to you. Or Eleanor. And do you know what I’ve learned over twenty years as a doctor?”

“What?”

“Fear is a superpower. Fear can make you faster, and cleverer, and stronger.” Her hand tightened around his shoulder, squeezing painfully, and he tensed. “Are you having a contraction?”

She didn’t answer, only nodded and grunted with the pain while Ian tried fruitlessly to comfort her. When it was over, she sat up straight again. Rose’s lip was wobbling a little and her eyes were wet with unshed tears. "You won’t leave me?”

He caressed her face gently. "I love you and I love our daughter. I would rather be flayed alive with a fucking spoon than leave you, Rose. I’ll be with you, I swear. For as long as you want me, you won’t be alone."

“I always want you.”

“Then you’ll always have me.”

Tears teetered at the corners of her eyes, then spilled. “I don’t think I can do this without you."

Ian smiled reassuringly, then kissed her forehead. “You don’t have to, sweetheart. You don’t have to.”

A scant ten minutes (and three contractions) later, Ian was loading Rose into the SUV then gently closing the door behind her while she buckled up. When he tossed their duffel onto the backseat, he did a mental re-assessment of the car seat he’d installed the week before, reassuring himself that it was safe. Then Rose grunted in pain, curling around herself, and Ian dashed to be beside her, to take her hand. 

“Breathe, sweetheart,” he encouraged, mimicking the breathing exercises she was meant to do. Once the contraction had passed, he ran around the car, cranked it, and pulled away as quickly as he felt safe. 

“Did you call Dr. Ross?”

“I did,” he confirmed. “And your Mum and Pete, too.”

“They’re on the way?”

“Your mum was in the shower. Pete is going to make the calls needed to crash the wing of the hospital and get those wheels turning, and when your mum gets out, they’ll be on the way.”

She sounded a little agitated. “So things will be ready for us when we get there?”

He nodded. “Ready enough that we can get you settled in. Start making you comfortable.” 

Ian darted his eyes over to her just in time to see her jaw set. “I told you I’m not going to take the drugs, Ian,” she ground out through clenched teeth. 

“I know, I know,” he reassured her, putting his hand over hers and curling his fingers. “I just want you to know the option is always open if you change your mind.”

“I appreciate it,” she answered, a little grumpy. Then she laid her head back against the headrest and blew out her cheeks. “How long does labor typically last again?”

“There’s no telling. I’ve no way of knowing how dilated or effaced you are, nor how quickly things are moving. And even if I did know those things, it’s almost impossible to guess accurately.” Rose made a disgruntled little sound and he squeezed her hand again. “It won’t be too long, I’m sure.”

Rose scoffed a little. “Not too long for you.”

Ian didn’t acknowledge the grumping from her, writing it off as anxiety and pain. Deciding to attempt to distract her, he said, "You know, going into labor without even having a name for the baby..."

“What?”

“The baby. She hasn’t been named yet. Seems like bad luck or something to have her and not know what to call her.”

"She has a name: Eleanor."

He clicked his tongue at her. "I know that, sweetheart, that was decided months ago. But a middle name was never decided on."

"Yes, it was. Grace. Eleanor Grace."

The SUV swerved a bit when she said that, causing her to shout his name and clutch at his arm while he used both hands to get them straightened out. Once they were safe, he looked at her incredulously, ready to speak, but she’d begun breathing heavily again. 

“Sweetheart, are you -?”

“I’m having another one!”

With one hand on the wheel and the other wrapped around hers, he coached her through the contraction, praising her, kissing the back of her hand when it had passed.

“You’re doing beautifully, sweetheart. Absolutely beautifully.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He wanted to ask about the baby’s middle name, but there wasn’t time before they were at the entrance to the hospital. Two nurses he knew well and trusted were out front and opening Rose’s door before he could get around to her, helping her out. She was reaching for him when they helped her into the wheelchair, calling his name softly.

“Ian… Don’t leave me...”

“I’m here, sweetheart,” he said, taking her hand and bending to kiss it as they walked quickly into the hospital. He spotted one of the security guards that had been there for what seemed like a couple centuries and caught his attention. “Frank? Do me a favor?”

“Yeah, Doctor?”

Ian sent his keys sailing and the other, older man caught them easily. “Park my car?”

“You got it, Doctor,” Frank said as they were rounding the corner to the lifts. “You just take care of that wife of yours!”

Rose was building to a contraction again as they wheeled her onto the lifts. “Which floor?” Ian asked, realizing suddenly that he had no idea what floor they’d be taking over and dreading the probable answer. 

“We’re going to 4W.”

“Shit,” he muttered, then smiled bravely at Rose, mimicking the breathing she needed to be doing. 

The lift door dinged, and started to open. They were greeted with an indignant “ _End_ of May, you said,” from Joan as soon as she caught sight of Rose sitting in the wheelchair.

_Fuck_. So much for fucking professionalism. 

“Thank you for reminding us that she's early,” he snapped back at her, “because we hadn’t already done the maths.”

Joan inhaled, visibly backing down. “Sorry. You’re right.” 

“What’s wrong?” Rose cried, agitated. 

“Nothing, sweetheart,” he rushed to assure her, kissing her hand again, smiling brightly. He did, however, shoot a filthy look at Joan as they dashed down the hall. She looked contrite, but frankly, Ian didn’t want to see her at all.

Things settled down just a bit once they got Rose settled into her birthing suite, and Ian started to see more and more faces he didn’t recognize wearing what he knew to be the Torchwood logo. Joan appeared a couple of times, but maintained a (belated) professional air. Rose didn’t seem to recognize her - or was too wrapped up in her labor to give a fuck - and Ian was glad. 

After a little over an hour, all of the faces coming in and out of her room were Torchwood people, and Ian tried not to be uncomfortable with it - or with the number of men that seemed to be caring for Rose. Much to his relief, the meathead who had tried to keep him out when Staples checked her didn’t make an appearance, and he had to concede that everyone they encountered seemed to be capable. The wing would be un-crashed shortly after Eleanor’s birth and he and Rose would be able to spend time with the baby without Torchwood hovering. He was looking forward to that time - for several reasons.

Rose was a trooper, handling her contractions with aplomb. She was checked soon after arrival and found to be at three centimeters dilated and still 40 percent effaced. 

As they settled in for what looked to be a long wait, every instinct Ian had as an OB wanted him to get up and run the show - as if by doing so, he could speed a completely natural process - but he managed to keep his seat. His role in this birth wasn’t as a physician. He was here as the support for the woman he loved, as a father about to meet his daughter. Rose needed him to remain calm and focused on her comfort. He couldn’t help himself checking the fetal monitor frequently, almost obsessively, but managed not to deviate from his job as support and father. He whispered reassurances and sweet nothings to soothe her while they waited for the next contraction. 

Rose was in the middle of a contraction when her mum and Pete arrived a few hours later. Ian finished coaching her through the contraction then tried to let go of her hand and make room for her mother, saying, “Your mum’s here, sweetheart,” but Rose held fast, not letting him go and giving him a glare for even considering leaving her. He shot Jackie an apologetic look and Rose’s mother contented herself with going to the other side of the bed and taking that hand.

“Where have you been?” Rose demanded when the contraction was over. “I’ve been here for hours! You could have missed it!”

Jackie shushed her daughter. “Hush, now, there’s no way I’d have missed this. Pete had an emergency at work, that’s all. Nothing to worry about.”

Ian turned to his best friend, his hands still wrapped around Rose’s. “Everything alright?”

“Nothing to worry about,” Pete echoed Jackie’s words. 

There was enough going on right at that moment, so Ian pushed it out of his mind just as a knock preceded the door to the room swinging open again. The woman who stepped inside was about his age, blonde, and petite - hardly taller than Clara, in fact. She was attractive but not gorgeous, and the lines around her eyes and mouth suggested kindness and frequent smiles.

“Ah, Dr. Evans,” Pete said, stepping forward with his hand outstretched.

“Director,” she replied, taking it, then releasing it and turning towards the bed. “And this must be Rose and Ian.”

Ian didn’t miss the quirk of Pete’s eyebrow at this informal greeting, but didn’t acknowledge it. He didn’t give a shit what this woman called him, so long as she took care of Rose and Eleanor. He extended his hand. 

“Dr. Evans. Nice to meet you.”

Rose, breathing heavily, raised a hand in greeting. 

“I didn’t expect to see you here for the birth, Dr. Evans,” Ian said a tad coldly. “I was under the impression you were only interested in the…” He fought down a shudder. “...The extraterrestrial aspect of this birth.”

“I’m on hand in case something extraterrestrial should happen to pop up, but my primary interest is a healthy baby and healthy mum.”

It was the best possible answer she could give. Rose squeezed his hand and Ian squeezed back, smiling at her reassuringly. 

“I’ll be here observing, of course,” Dr. Evans continued, “but unless there’s some emergency, that’s all I’ll be doing. When is the last time you were examined for progress?”

“Ninety-three minutes ago,” Ian supplied, and managed not to flush at Pete and Jackie’s little smirks. 

“Can we get a nurse in here to do a pelvic?” she asked no one in particular, but Ian was impressed to see the nurses scurry to action. Within a minute, the Torchwood nurse that Ian had come to like best was examining Rose, and announced her measurements to the doctor: four centimeters and 50 percent. Rose groaned to learn she wasn’t farther along, and Ian tried not to be discouraged at the slow - but textbook - progress.

“You keep up the good work,” Dr. Evans encouraged Rose, patting her knee. “It won’t be long, I promise.”

Two more hours passed, the sun set, and the nurse came in to check Rose again while Pete and Jackie stepped out politely. He swore under his breath and Rose started crying when she was told there had been minimal change since the last time she was checked. Ian held her and consoled her, telling her (and reminding himself) that frequently, things would move slowly and then the last couple of centimeters would happen very fast. Tentatively, he mentioned the epidural, thinking now that she’d been in pain for several hours, she may change her mind. 

“I wouldn’t suggest it if I weren’t certain it’s safe.”

“No.”

“Sweetheart --”

“No!” she snapped, then squeezed his hand as another contraction took her. 

Pete floated in but mostly out of the room while Rose labored, presumably to handle whatever issues he was having at Vitex or Torchwood, and Jackie left the room a couple of times to get a beer or some shit, Ian didn’t know. He never left Rose’s side. Time seemed to absolutely _crawl_ and he seriously considered texting Clara and having her track down Ross immediately.

The room was crowded with people when a noise startled everyone and it took several long seconds to realize it was coming from his pocket. He recognized the tone of course - it was his answering service - and he cursed colorfully. He’d forgotten to cover his call tonight when he left the office. It was his own fault, but there was no choice. He had to take the call. 

“Sweetheart,” he said, standing beside her bed then bending to kiss her brow. “I have to take this. I’ll be just outside the door and it won’t take a minute. Okay?”

“Ian…” she whimpered, and his heart practically ripped out of his chest. But she would be alright. Jackie was there on the opposite side of her bed, willing to do whatever was needed. She’d just finished a contraction, so he had a window of time approximately two minutes long to conduct his business. She was as comfortable and safe as he could make her - but he _had_ to take this call.

“I promise, Rose. It’ll only take a minute. I fucking swear. Let me handle this and I’ll be right back. Okay?”

“Okay,” she whispered, her voice shaky, and he kissed her then, the mobile still ringing insistently in his hand.

“I love you,” he told her, kissing her one last time at the same moment he pressed the green button on his phone, then turned away and strode into the corridor. “Docherty.”

“Doctor, Jennifer White has been admitted to MMC’s emergency department with heavy spotting -”

"Call Perkins or Bannerman.”

“Sir?”

“I’m not fucking available.”

“What about Ross?”

“She’d better have her arse on the way up here,” he growled, then shook it off when he heard his name coming from the room behind him - Rose was contracting again and calling for him. “Give whoever you get on the phone this message: Rose is in labor and Docherty’s leave starts right now." 

“Paternity leave?”

He gritted his teeth against the unnecessary clarification. "Yeah, paternity leave." 

“That’s wonderful! Congratulations, Dr. Docherty!”

“Yeah, thanks.” He rang off, raising his balled fists to his forehead in frustration, then walked back into Rose’s birthing room. 

“Oh, thank God you’re back,” Jackie said as soon as she saw him. “She’s been crying for you.”

Rose was contracting, crying, and just generally not handling it well as she had been. The sight of her so distressed frightened him and he rushed to her, taking her outstretched hand and kissing it before he coached her through the rest of the contraction. When it passed, she was visibly relieved that he was back, and he was just as relieved to be with her. 

“Don’t leave me again, Ian…”

“No, sweetheart. That’s handled. I’m not leaving you again, I fucking swear.”

“I can’t do this,” she cried, and Ian could almost _see_ her tenacity wavering. “I’m not strong enough.”

"You _can_ do it. I believe in you, Rose. You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever known and you're doing brilliantly, sweetheart. Absolutely brilliant. I'm so proud of you."

In a weak voice, "Yeah?"

He kissed her forehead, so incredibly proud and in awe of her. "Yeah."

As he had been since he arrived at their house to find her water had broken, Ian spent the next hour doing his absolute damndest to comfort her. He passed the shrinking time between contractions touching her, caressing her face and dropping kisses on her forehead and the back of her hand, whispering and murmuring to her. Rose responded well to him, for the most part - calming when he soothed her, doing what he said, her eyes searching him out when she wasn’t contracting. He lavished praise on her and told her often how much he loved her.

Privately, he was counting contractions. Ross had three more fucking contractions to get here, and if she didn’t, he was going to yank whatever strings he could find to _get_ her arse here. The urge to take charge was rising. His job had never required him to be around for the laboring part, he’d basically just shown up to catch the baby. Sure, he’d check in, pat the mother on the knee and tell her she was doing well and he’d see her when it was time. Now, though, with Rose in labor, he was virtually helpless to do anything and it was the most miserable feeling he’d ever had.

“Where’s Dr. Ross?” Jackie demanded, offering Rose some ice chips. 

“I don’t know,” he snapped, resolving that he was only going to let his sweetheart go through _one more_ contraction before he started making shit happen.

“Why is it taking so long?”

“I don’t know.”

“When will the baby be here?”

“I don’t fucking _know_ , Jackie!”

"You're supposed to be good at this” Jackie declared. “You're an OB!"

"I’m a damn good OB, but I’ve never been a support person before! This is... hard."

" _You're telling me_?" Rose demanded, another contraction building. 

“I don’t remember it taking this long when Rose was born,” Jackie muttered under her breath.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Ian murmured, letting her squeeze his hand until he thought she may break the bones. She writhed on the bed in front of him, crying out in pain, and he gave up the fight, trying one last time. “One word, sweetheart. Just one word from you and I can make the pain stop. Please, sweetheart, let me make the pain stop.”

Rose just shook her head and concentrated on her breathing. 

That contraction had just passed when Christine Ross breezed into the room, smiling almost sunnily and instantly pissing Ian off. He shot to his feet. 

“Where the fuck have you been?” Ian shouted. “She’s in active fucking labor!”

Christine didn’t acknowledge him directly, she just smiled at Rose. “You hanging in there, Rose?”

She nodded and he sat down beside her, kissing her hand, his eyes never leaving Christine.

“Dr. Evans said you were about halfway there. Let’s see what’s happened since then.” 

Ross did a check on Rose, and announced that she only had a centimeter more to go and she’d be delivering the baby soon. Rose gave a tired grin, squeezing Ian’s hand to get his attention, and he leaned over to kiss her. Jackie kissed her on the forehead immediately after. 

“I’m going to --” 

“You’re not going any-goddamn-where,” Ian snarled. “She’s nine centimeters and fully effaced, your arse is staying here until this baby is born.”

“Come here,” Ross told him, starting towards the door, but Ian didn’t move. He’d promised Rose he wouldn’t move.

“No.”

“Docherty --”

“Fuck you. I’m staying here, and so are you.”

“It’s okay, Ian,” Rose said from beside him. “Go see what she wants. It may be important. Just hurry back, alright?”

He looked at her incredulously, and Christine actually tapped her foot at the door. It was no problem to defy Christine, he’d fight her to the death if need be, but if Rose wanted him to go… 

“I love you,” he murmured, then got to his feet and went to the door. To his surprise, Christine shut it behind them. 

“I warned you about this, Docherty. I tried to tell you how much different it is when you’re in a parenting or support role versus when you’re the physician in charge. Rose’s labor thus far has been textbook-perfect --”

“That’s when everything always goes fucking wrong! And I swear to Christ, I’ve never known a labor to take this fucking long…”

“You two arrived at the hospital at 4:47 p.m. and it’s now 11:34 and she’s at nine centimeters. You and I both know that last centimeter is going to go fast. There’s a chance - a slim one - that the baby will be here before midnight. This has been a _beautiful_ labor, Ian, and the clinician in you knows it. Nothing is going to go wrong. But you _have_ to stay calm, for Rose.”

“ _Ian!_ ”

He turned to rush back in to his sweetheart, but Christine caught his arm. “Stay calm. Alright? Keep calm.”

Ian nodded and dashed back into the room to take Rose’s hand.


	75. Chapter 75

10 May, 2012  
12:49 a.m.

Ian had seen families in birthing situations for decades. He’d always thought that he understood the fathers who were fiercely protective of their wives and who got emotional when he handed them a healthy baby. But he didn’t _really_ understand. 

Christine held up the baby with one hand supporting her neck and another on her bum, putting the wailing newborn on display for just a second, and for the first time in his life, tears streamed down his face while he laughed with joy. Wave after wave of emotion crashed over him, so many and so rapidly he couldn’t articulate them all - or even sort them out. Wonder. Awe. Gratitude. Relief. And an all-encompassing love.

Eleanor was laid on Rose’s chest and two nurses rushed over to start cleaning her, covering her in warm blankets. Christine looked at him, called him ‘Dad’ and offered him the clamped cord and scissors. He stood, eyes still wet, and cut his daughter’s umbilical cord. He’d cut hundreds upon hundreds of cords, but this was _Eleanor_ , and he couldn’t contain himself. 

He was still crying when he sat back down beside Rose. She was openly sobbing and for the tiniest instant, he wondered if she missed the Doctor. Then she looked at him, her eyes shining and mirroring the love and wonder he felt, and he dismissed any such thoughts. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Ian saw Dr. Evans quietly slip out of the room. The delivery had been flawless, and her presence largely unnecessary.

He turned his attention to the newborn and felt compelled to reach up and stroke the baby’s perfect little dark-haired head. Eleanor hadn't had her bath and being vigorously scrubbed by towels could only do so much, so she was still covered in vernix caseosa and amniotic fluid and rapidly drying blood. Rose was sweaty and swollen with fat tears running down a face that was stretched out from pushing, but her smile was brighter than the brightest light. They were both - both of them - the most beautiful sights he'd ever seen. He’d thought he loved them before, but it didn’t come close to the way he felt about them now. 

Ian leaned over and kissed Rose, then laid his forehead against hers, whispering, "I love you so much. Thank you."

“She’s here, Ian. We’re a family.”

_Family._

The nurse was coming with Eleanor’s hat, and before she could cover the baby’s head, Ian kissed her. “Daddy loves you, Little Face.”

Then he sat back down and kissed Rose again before he swiped the back of his hand across his eyes. "So this is what it feels like from the other end." Another nurse approached Eleanor with the ankle bracelet he recognized as a security measure to protect against kidnapping and switching. Before he could remark, however, someone else gently tugged his arm. 

“Here you go, Dad,” the smiling nurse he didn’t recognize said, putting the bracelet on his right wrist. He looked down at it with wide eyes. A father’s bracelet. This strip of pink and blue plastic identified him as Eleanor’s father. It seemed so official, and he felt his eyes swimming again.

Rose raised her hand for her bracelet, but her eyes never left Eleanor. "Look at her, Ian. Look at Eleanor. Isn't she gorgeous?"

"She is, sweetheart. The most beautiful baby I’ve ever seen."

“I love you, Ian. I love you so much.”

He kissed Rose again, couldn't stop himself if he tried. 

Most of the activity in the room surrounding them had been missed by Ian, utterly fixated as he was on the two women in his life. Therefore, he was surprised when a hand landed on his shoulder. “You did well, Dad.”

Ian got to his feet and, for the first time in two decades, he hugged his colleague. “Thank you, Christine. Thank you for my family.”

“Take care of them,” she charged him, then patted his shoulder and smiled at him when she pulled back. 

The nurses were getting Rose arranged and comfortable in bed while she held Eleanor, and Ian sat back down beside her, eager to see the baby again. Ross put her hand on Rose’s ankle to get her attention. 

“You did a phenomenal job, Rose. I’ll be back in later today to check you, but you can have the nurses page me if you feel like you need me earlier than that. I’m sure, however, that Ian is going to take exemplary care of you and there’s nothing to worry about.” She patted Rose. “Congratulations, Ms. Tyler. Congratulations, Docherty.”

“Thank you,” they said together, then both turned back to Eleanor as Rose’s doctor left the room. The nurses cleared out slowly, leaving the little family huddled together, the new parents gazing in wonder at the little miracle Rose had just delivered. 

“I love you,” Rose said to Eleanor, her eyes welling up again. Then she turned her head to Ian. “And I love you.”

He kissed her softly, unable to articulate anything but, “I love you, too.” Eleanor made a little sound and caught his attention, and he thought he may die if he didn’t hold his baby soon. He reached up and covered her little head again, preparing to ask Rose to hold her, and -- 

The door to the room opened and Jackie practically flew in, Pete on her heels. “She’s here? Oh, Pete, she’s here!”

Disappointed but understanding that this was an important moment, Ian smiled a little and backed off. Rose looked at him uncertainly, but immediately had to turn her attention back to Jackie - who had glided over and was hugging her, then looking down at the baby. 

“She’s beautiful, sweetheart,” Jackie told Rose, and Ian thought he would burst with pride in his daughter. “Here. Let her come see her Nan.” Ian tensed while the exchange was taking place, terror that one of them would miss and Eleanor would fall racking his entire body, but the exchange went off smoothly and he relaxed. Very gingerly, Ian took a seat next to his sweetheart. She scooted over a bit, silently welcoming him, and he put his arm around her.

“Oh, Rose, she’s beautiful. Hello, Eleanor, I’m your Nan.” Jackie cooed and stroked her cheek with the back of one finger. “What middle name did you two decide on?"

"Grace," Rose supplied.

“Eleanor Grace Tyler. Oh, that’s lovely.”

Ian felt as though he’d stepped on a live wire but did his best to seem unaffected. Rose had been referring to him as Daddy and he’d just assumed… But maybe she didn’t want him to be Eleanor’s father in _every_ possible way. Maybe she just wanted him around as a support person. They’d never talked about the legalities and technicalities. Should he even propose to her? Would she even want to have his name? Doubts suddenly racked him, when he’d been so content just a few moments before.

“That’s after your aunt?” Pete asked from his place near the door, where he watched Jackie with her granddaughter with emotions crowding his face. 

Ian blinked, only just realizing that since Rose had first mentioned the name through her labor pains, he hadn’t gotten a chance to ask about the reason behind her choosing it. “Rose?”

Rose looked shy for a second, her face heating, but he didn't say anything, didn’t give her any out. He was dying to know. 

“Yes,” Rose answered Pete. “At the Vitex gala, someone suggested I name her after someone in her father’s family. So I did. She’s named ‘Grace’ for her gran.”

Ian gaped at her and his mouth started moving while his brain struggled to catch up. "Are you saying..." Rose nodded. "Eleanor and Auntie don't just share a name, Eleanor was named _for_ Auntie?"

"Yeah. I hoped you'd be pleased."

“I’m thrilled, sweetheart, I’m overwhelmed. But I guess I just don’t know what to say. You named her before we were together.”

“Ian, if we’re being honest, we’ve been together for months.”

“That’s the truth,” Jackie interjected, reminding both of them that they weren’t alone.

Ian hugged Rose as tight as he felt comfortable, loving her completely and kissing her soundly. When they broke apart, Eleanor was starting to fuss a little, and Jackie handed her back over to Rose. Pete offered to step out when the lactation consultant stepped in, offering Rose privacy, but she laughed. 

“I’ve a feeling you’ll be seeing me feed her rather often, might as well get used to it, yeah?”

Pete still looked uncomfortable, but nodded respectfully, so while Rose worked on latching and feeding the baby, Ian kissed her, kissed Eleanor, then went to go talk to his best friend and distract him. 

A few minutes later there was a brief knock at the door and a nurse breezed in, wearing the Torchwood logo and thus making Ian very uncomfortable at once. She paid him no mind, just went to Rose and Eleanor on the bed. 

“Is she nearly done? Good, good. Katherine is coming in here right behind me, she’s going to help you get a shower and changed into some clean clothes while your bed is changed, so you’ll be more comfortable. This little girl and I have a wee trip to make.”

"Where are you taking her?" Rose asked, anxious, as the nurse took the baby and laid her in the cot.

"Back to the nursery. She'll get a bath, some clean clothes and a diaper. And then we have some tests to run. She’ll be back in a few hours."

"The fuck she will," Ian growled. 

Pete attempted to placate him. "Ian..."

"No. The tests can wait. It's not like she's going to fucking run away." Rose reached for his hand, her eyes wide, panic lurking just behind them, and it steeled his resolve. "Bathe her, weigh her, diaper her, then bring her the fuck back here, to her mother."

"Sir --"

Ian pointed a menacing finger. " _NO_. The first 24 hours are fucking _crucial_ for newborns and for mother-child bonding. Eleanor needs to be _here_ with her _mother_." 

Rose started to cry and squeezed Ian's hand, saying his name softly. He squeezed her hand in response, attempting to communicate that he was doing his best. 

"Sir, your daughter is part alien. There are tests that must be --"

"I know she's... unique. And I know there are tests that need to be done. But you are _not _fucking keeping that baby from her mother to fucking satisfy your Star Trek fangirl curiosity. Bathe her, diaper her, weigh her, and fucking _bring her back_."__

__The nurse turned to Pete. "Sir?"_ _

__Ian leveled a glare at him also. "Pete," he said in a steady tone._ _

__It was a standoff and he knew it. But Rose was crying and afraid for her baby, _he_ was afraid for the baby, and he wasn’t fucking having it. Over his dead goddamn body. They could do the tests later, when things weren’t quite so emotional. But he wasn’t ready to let Eleanor out of his sight, and he knew Rose wasn’t, either. It was going to be a stretch on both of them to let her go get a bath._ _

__Pete sighed and started to speak, but was cut off by a knock on the door._ _

__“Oh, who the fuck now?” Ian snapped. He was surprised when he saw Dr. Garrison come into the room, smiling brightly._ _

__“Dr. Docherty! Thought I heard your dulcet tones. I had suspected you might be here. Glad to see you. Good to work with you.”_ _

__Ian shook the offered hand warily. “I’m not here as a clinician.”_ _

__“Of course not, didn’t expect you would be,” he smiled, then turned to Rose. Ian was chagrined to see her flushing and straightening her hair and hospital gown. “Ah, the elusive Miss Tyler. I’m so glad to finally meet you, albeit a little earlier than expected. I only moved to town this past weekend!”_ _

__“You’re from --”_ _

__“The Territories. Colorado, to be specific.”_ _

__She just nodded a little, her cheeks pinkening more. Ian, feeling possessive, went to sit on the bed and put his arm around her, only a couple of feet from the baby._ _

__“I didn’t expect to see you here quite this late, Garrison,” Pete said, making his presence known._ _

__“Well, I’m dealing with a bit of zep lag. My body thinks it’s only just now dinnertime, since that’s what it’s used to. So I was awake when the call came that a certain little lady had been born a little while ago. That lag came in handy in this case, didn’t it?”_ _

__“It did,” Jackie said, smiling in what Ian was certain was a flirty way, then prancing forward a bit and offering her hand. “Hi. I’m Jackie Tyler, Pete’s wife, Rose’s mother.”_ _

__“And Eleanor’s grandmother?”_ _

__“Oh, now, I don’t look that old, do I?” Jackie cooed, patting her hair._ _

__Ian had had quite enough. “If we could get back to the subject at hand, which is _my daughter_.” He had a flash of uncertainty, but Rose squeezed his leg where her hand rested and he didn’t back down. “This nurse came to get the baby, saying you lot would be doing tests for a while. It’s not fucking happening. I don’t give a--”_ _

__“Is it vital that the testing be done now?” Pete asked, heading Ian off. “Can it not wait?”_ _

__“The sooner we do the tests, the sooner we’ll know just what is unique about her and how to handle problems if they arise. In an ideal world, we’d do the tests now. But I see no real harm in waiting a bit, we’re just gambling that she’s going to stay healthy and act fully human until the tests are done and we know what we’re working with. So no, it’s not vital, and I’m fine putting the majority of them off. I would ask, however,” Garrison went on, turning towards Ian and Rose, “that you let me do a cheek swab and draw some blood to get started with. It will help me get a head start and be more efficient if I have a better idea of what directions I should look. And then you can bring her in to the Torchwood facilities in… a week? Would that be better?”_ _

__Ian looked down at Rose, asking her opinion without words. She looked up at him, and her eyes were relieved. Her nod was barely perceptible, and he took just a second to kiss her forehead before he turned to Garrison. “Yes, thank you. That would be much better. Swab her and do the heel stick today. We’ll bring her in next week.”_ _

__The nurse didn’t hesitate, just started backing away with the cot, and Ian felt like part of his soul was being pulled out by the roots, seeing that helpless baby taken away from him. It reignited his anger and he called out to her, pointing again. "Listen to me. I have been a practicing doctor of fucking obstetrics for two fucking decades. I know, down to the minute, how long it takes to bathe and diaper a newborn. Don't try to pull any cute shit with me. If Eleanor is not back in this fucking room with her mother in thirty minutes, I will tear this building apart brick by brick until I've found her, and I won't be fucking pleasant once I have. Do you fucking understand?"_ _

__The nurse looked at Pete and he nodded. "Thirty minutes, and then Eleanor needs to be in this room."_ _

__"Yes, sir."_ _

__Rose was crying when the nurse took Eleanor away, and Ian turned to sit on the side of her bed, leaning his head close to her, their foreheads touching, smoothing her sweaty hair out of her face that was wet with tears. He did his best to calm her and himself down._ _

__"Eleanor is fine, sweetheart. She’s a healthy baby girl, quite a good size for early term. I’ve got a tenner says she’s a little over six pounds, we’ll say six-three. Do you want to bet on it? Be warned, I have a fair bit of experience in the field."_ _

__Rose laughed just a little, and he wiped away a tear. "Felt like she was a twenty-pound bowling ball."_ _

__He grinned and kissed her forehead. "I swear, Rose, she’s going to be fine. I won’t let anything happen to her - or you. If she’s not back in thirty minutes, I’ll go get her. I’ll turn this shitheap upside down to get to her. Nothing is going to hurt her, I fucking swear.”_ _

__She nodded up at him and the look in her eyes was so trusting, so honest, that he couldn’t help but kiss the back of her hand, holding it in both of his, loving her more than he ever thought possible. "You’re so fucking brave, Rose," he marveled._ _

__"I don’t need to be afraid. You’re here."_ _

__Garrison excused himself then, probably sensing that he was part of a very personal moment, and Ian was grateful. The xeno-pediatrician said he’d check back in before they were discharged the next day. As he was walking out, Katherine, the promised aftercare nurse, came in, smiling at Rose._ _

__“Are you ready for your shower, Miss Tyler? You’ll feel _so_ much better once it’s done.”_ _

__“She’s right,” Ian murmured against her hair. “You will. And I’ll stay with you, if you like.”_ _

__“Rubbish,” Jackie snapped. “You should go get cleaned up yourself.”_ _

__Pete volunteered, “I think I’m going to go keep an eye on the baby from outside the nursery window. Make sure everything is going as it should.”_ _

__That was the best damn idea Ian thought he’d ever heard, and he’d have hugged Pete if he were standing nearby. He liked the idea so much, in fact…_ _

__“If you don’t want me to help you, sweetheart, then I’m going to go with Pete to keep an eye on Eleanor. Make sure there isn’t any fuckery afoot.”_ _

__Rose nodded a little. “I’ll feel better knowing you’re there with her,” she said in a quiet voice._ _

__He cupped her face and kissed her gently, smiling at her when he pulled away. “This is fine, sweetheart. I swear, it’s all fine. You’re safe and she’s safe.”_ _

__Rose held onto his forearms and favored him with a tiny smile. “I know you’ll take care of me, and of our little girl.”_ _

__Goddamn right he would._ _

__He kissed her one more time, hard, then got up and left the room with Pete, waving over his shoulder. Rose didn’t see him: Katherine and Jackie were helping her get to her feet and head to the shower._ _

__Ian and Pete walked down the hall silently until Ian spoke._ _

__"Thank you for all of that."_ _

__"I’m starting to think we’re the ones who should be thanking you,” Pete said. “I don’t think she’d be handling all of this nearly as well without you."_ _

__“You’ll never have to find out if that’s true.”_ _

__They arrived at the nursery and took up sentry posts at the viewing window. The wing had been crashed by Torchwood for Eleanor’s birth, but would be reopened now - with extensive security checks. The nurses were giving Eleanor a bath and the baby was crying, not at all happy with her current circumstances. The faint sound of her wails of protest made it through the glass, and although Ian knew that it wouldn’t be long before he no longer felt this way, her newborn cries were music to his ears._ _

__“Daddy, huh?” Pete asked, hands in his pockets, eyes fixed on Eleanor._ _

__"What of it?"_ _

__"I know it’s what you were saying at Rose’s birthday party… You're claiming Eleanor?"_ _

__Ian scoffed. “Of course I am. Why wouldn't I? As far as I'm concerned, she's mine. You said it yourself, at Torchwood: I’m her father in every way that counts. Is that not true?”_ _

__“That’s not my call.”_ _

__Ian looked Pete dead in the eye. "Is Rose your daughter?"_ _

__“She doesn’t consider herself so.”_ _

__“ _You_ consider her your daughter, right?”_ _

__Pete looked caught out. "Yes, but --"_ _

__"There are no buts. Genetics don't factor in, not really. There are hundreds of thousands - more likely _millions_ of kids running around with no fucking father, even though there's someone out there who matches their DNA. What _matters_ is love and acceptance. Eleanor will have that with me. She’ll have permanence and stability. She’ll have a home and love. I’m going to do my damndest to make sure she has _everything_.” _ _

__“You’ve thought a lot about this over the last several months, haven’t you?”_ _

__Ian didn’t answer except to summarize his point. “I love her, I accept her, she's mine."_ _

__“How is my grandbaby?” Jackie asked from behind him. He turned to see her wrapping her arms around Pete’s waist. All these months, and he still wasn’t used to them canoodling. Jackie’s face clouded and her voice got more shrill. “What are they doing to her?”_ _

__“They’re swabbing her cheek for DNA, Jacks. It’s a cotton swab against the inside of her cheek. Doesn’t hurt her a bit - although it seems she doesn’t like it.”_ _

__She certainly didn’t. Eleanor was screaming, obviously displeased, but the nurse stepped over to her cot and with quick motions, swaddled the baby tight. She quieted a bit, although she still fussed, and Ian itched to go to his daughter._ _

__“We’re leaving for the night, Ian,” Jackie informed him. “Gonna let your little family have some time together. We’ll be back in the morning. Rose was hoping you’d come back soon.”_ _

__“I can’t,” he said. “Eleanor isn’t done yet.”_ _

__“We’ll stay until they leave to bring her back to you,” Pete offered. “Go, be with Rose.”_ _

__Ian didn’t want to leave Eleanor but also didn’t want Rose to be alone. He felt completely torn between the two women in his life, and wasn’t at all sure what to do._ _

__“You’ll stay with her?” he asked Pete, not sure he was doing the right thing. “Until they wheel her back to the room?”_ _

__“Yes, and I’ll text you when they’re on the way and we’re leaving. Go. Be with Rose.”_ _

__He shook Pete’s hand and surprised Jackie by hugging her quickly, then went back down to Rose’s room. She was in her bed, which had obviously been changed. She was turned on her side, curled up into a slight fetal position, and he could hear her cry softly._ _

__“Sweetheart?”_ _

__She raised her head. “Hey,” she said, giving him a weak smile. He took off his shoes and crossed the room to the bed, taking the space that Rose was creating for him by scooting backwards and lying down with her. Nothing was said for a while, nothing needed to be said. Her hair was damp from her shower and he pushed it back from her face, marveling at her beauty and just how much he loved her._ _

__“How do you feel?” he asked, his voice nearly a whisper._ _

__“I can’t feel her move,” Rose confessed, then bright tears spilled over her lashes. “It’s like some part of me is missing.”_ _

__“She’s not missing, sweetheart. She’s right down the hall, and they’ll be here with her soon. They’ve already done the blood draw and the cheek swab, and she fought back so strongly, I wondered if maybe we _should_ name her Rose, Jr.”_ _

__Rose laughed a little, and he snuggled her close. She buried her face in his chest and he kissed the top of her hair. “Rest now, Rose. You’re bound to be exhausted. You were so brave… take a little break for a while. Sleep while you can.”_ _

__She nodded against his chest, nuzzling in closer so she could sleep. Ian knew he wouldn’t sleep, but he closed his eyes anyway, too. Just as he could feel himself starting to drift, there was a knock at the door and then it was pushed open._ _

__"Knock knock. I’ve got someone here who wants to see you."_ _

__"Yes, come in." He felt Rose wake when he tried to extricate himself so he leaned closer for a moment and cupped her cheek. "Eleanor’s back."_ _

__At her visible relief he pressed a kiss on her forehead and then got off of the bed. He didn’t recognize the nurse pushing the bassinet into the room, which was probably a blessing for everyone involved by that point - not that he was at all bothered by the fact that he hadn’t made any friends at Torchwood in the last several hours._ _

__He twitched when the nurse picked up Eleanor, years of experience compounded by it being _Eleanor_ made him unable to stop himself. He didn’t think he was that obvious, but she turned toward him instead of Rose._ _

__"Want to hold the baby, Dad?"_ _

__His eyes widened and he looked at Rose who nodded. "Go ahead."_ _

__Ian accepted her into his arms, inexplicably nervous despite the countless babies he’d held. He knew from his observations at the nursery that she weighed six pounds and four ounces. She was nineteen inches long. But somehow, those numbers had always seemed larger than they did right now while he held this baby girl - _his_ baby girl._ _

__He looked down at her, seeing her lashes lying on her cheeks like little crescents, her tiny button nose, and her pursed rosebud lips. She was beautiful, absolutely gorgeous, and even at an hour and a half old, she already had his heart on a string. He knew, instinctively, that she always would. And he knew, too, that he would find a way to convince Rose that this baby was meant to be a Docherty. She was his._ _

__Doing a poor job of blinking back tears, he whispered to the sleeping girl in his arms. "Hello, little face, sweet little one. I'm so glad you're here. Been waiting to meet you. I love you so much."_ _

__He looked up to see Rose watching them, her eyes watery, so he walked over. "You want to take her?"_ _

__"No, you’re doing fine."_ _

__But he couldn’t place the expression on her face and he hadn’t been making up the bit about the mother-child bonding. "Shift."_ _

__Rose blinked for a second before scooting to the side. He sat carefully in the space she’d made for him and she leaned into him, pressing her lips gently on the top of Eleanor’s head. Neither of them noticed when the nurse saw herself out._ _


	76. Chapter 76

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congratulations to Molliweide who won our baby pool! Get in touch with us, dear, and let us know what you'd like to read!

10 May, 2012  
(cont.)

Rose was exhausted - and had every good reason to be so. She and her body had performed a miracle and she deserved rest, all the rest the baby would allow. Eleanor had eaten and the two of them had marveled over the sleeping infant for a little while, and then Rose had nodded off. Ian had gotten up gingerly, taking the baby and letting Rose sleep, settling Eleanor into her hospital-provided bassinet, deciding he should probably try to nap, too. 

He had a choice between the single most uncomfortable chair ever made and a four-foot joke of a sofa that couldn’t _possibly_ have been meant for a human to sleep on. Neither option was appealing, so he settled into the chair and propped his feet up on the arm of the sofa, figuring that was the best of both worlds - and resolving to mention this slight against the fathers and support people at the next Board meeting. 

He was awakened some time later by Eleanor stirring in her bassinet, grunting in the way that babies do just before they start to fuss. Ian got to his feet quickly, scooping her up and holding her close. She quieted when he sang to her. He’d long known that babies could recognize the sounds they heard in utero, but he’d never seen it in action. His daughter seemed to know his voice and it thrilled him to the core. 

“Hello there, Little Face. What do you think about this world so far, huh? I know you haven’t seen much of it yet, but it’s pretty spectacular. I can’t wait to show you. The sun is just about to come up on your first day, everything is brand new for you, love, and it’s all so wonderful. Keep that sense of wonder, Eleanor. Keep that feeling of astonishment.

“We haven’t been formally introduced yet but I’m -” He hesitated for only a second, then plowed ahead. “I’m your daddy, baby girl. I’m your _daddy_. That means I’m always going to be there when you need me, or if you just want me. That’s what daddies do. There are going to be times you don’t want me around, but that’s alright. I’ll still be there anyway, doing my best to teach you and keep you safe. Sometimes, though, Eleanor, daddies have to leave. Sometimes they die or get taken away for some reason. So, just in case now is the only time we have together, I want to give you all the wisdom I have. Alright, Little Face? It’s not much, but it’s what I’ve got, and I’m giving it to you.

“Never be cruel, never be cowardly. And never ever eat pears!” He booped her on her little nose and she suckled at nothing, making him smile. “Remember, Eleanor – hate is always foolish… and love, love is always wise. Always try to be nice and never fail to be kind.”

Ian settled back down into his chair, cuddling her close. “Laugh hard. Run fast. Be kind. And always, always remember - your daddy loves you more than his next breath.”

She continued to sleep and Ian just watched her for awhile, marveling at the ferocity with which he loved her. It was like nothing he’d ever felt, and he couldn’t imagine where the depth of his emotion came from. It didn’t matter, though, not really. It was there. He felt it. 

He glanced over at the clock on the wall by the door - it was just shy of five. Fergus would still be sleeping, but Ian didn’t think he could wait another moment to share the joy that was threatening to overwhelm him.

Carefully, he positioned Eleanor so her face was closer to his, leaned down so their cheeks were touching, raised his phone and took a photo. Pulling the phone back to him and returning Eleanor to her original position after a quick kiss to her head, he looked at the picture he’d taken. He had a face full of scruff, which he knew Auntie would give him pursed lips for. His hair was somewhat less than neat since he’d run his fingers through it multiple times out of sheer nerves during labor and delivery. Even behind his glasses, he looked tired. But the smile on his face was also the brightest, happiest smile he believed he’d ever worn. 

He typed with one thumb for a minute then pressed the button to send the photo to Fergus. 

~Ian: _Eleanor’s here! She arrived at 12:49am. 6lb4oz, 19in, and the most goddamn beautiful baby I ever saw._  
~Ian: _be sure and show Auntie, but not the ‘goddamn’ part. tell her I’ll ring her later today. things are a bit hectic here._

Ian settled back into the chair, lying his mobile on the arm of the chair and settling the baby on his chest, preparing to sleep for a little while. He was surprised, therefore, when the phone buzzed beside him.

~Fergus: _congratulations, da!_   
~Ian: _thank you! What are you doing up?_  
~Fergus: _once I got your message that Rose was in labor, I left the sound on so I’d hear it when you rang_

He was deeply, deeply touched by his cousin’s thoughtfulness, and didn’t know what to say. Fergus saved him. 

~Fergus: _how is Birdie?_  
~Ian: _doing fine, sleeping right now. the bravest woman I've ever known_   
~Fergus: _she's with you, isn't she?_  
~Ian: _that she is. that she certainly is._  
~Fergus: _congratulations!_  
~Ian: _thanks again, more pictures soon. go back to bed._

Ian chuckled, laying the phone back down, then reaching up to stroke Eleanor’s back. The baby suckled at nothing again, and it occurred to him as he fell asleep that he hadn’t gotten a good look at her eyes yet. Didn’t matter. They were almost certainly dark blue, like most babies’. 

But he really wanted to look into his daughter’s eyes…

~*~O~*~

When Rose woke up to the sunlight starting to stream into the window, her breasts feeling full and her still-swollen belly feeling empty, she looked around the room, disoriented. It was a hospital room, and there was an empty bassinet by the foot of her bed. She turned her head a little to the left and spotted Ian, asleep in the chair. He was laid back with his ankles crossed on the arm of the couch. His glasses were askew, and a tiny pink bundle lay on his chest. His hand looked _huge_ resting on her daughter’s back, and her eyes welled with tears at the way his fingers curled protectively around her. It was everything she wanted, right there in that chair. 

She got up carefully and went to the loo, fairly certain at that moment that she was never going to want to have sex again. Once she was done, she came back out to the room just in time to see the baby starting to stir. Ian was awake at once, cradling her protectively, shushing her, telling her to let mummy sleep. 

“I’m awake,” she said gently. “And she’s probably starved, if my boobs are to be believed.” 

Ian chuckled. “Alright,” he said, getting to his feet and waiting while Rose settled herself into one side of the bed. She held out her arms for the squirming baby and he handed her over gently. She did as she’d been taught to get the baby to latch, and was pleasantly surprised when it went off without a hitch. Once Eleanor was nursing well, Rose looked up at Ian. He was clearly tired: his hair was a wreck, his glasses still weren’t on his face entirely straight and they didn’t hide the bags under his eyes. He was wearing the clothes he’d been wearing when he left for work twenty-four hours before, and they were thoroughly rumpled. Even so, she’d never seen anyone more handsome than her bloke, standing there beside her bed, watching her nurse their daughter.

Rose used her free hand to pat the bed beside her. “Come join me?”

“You sure?”

“There’s plenty of room,” she grinned, nodding down at the small space next to her and giving him a cheeky grin. 

“I don’t want to crowd you.”

“Come sit with me, Ian,” she said, less of a request and more of a command this time. He did so, gingerly taking the place next to her, putting his arm around her and dipping his head to kiss Eleanor’s forehead.

“I love you, Rose,” he murmured, leaning over to kiss her lips. She returned the kiss gently, smiling just a little, loving him with every fiber of her being that wasn’t dedicated to the baby in her arms. 

“I love you, too,” she whispered. “We’re a family now, Ian.”

He beamed. “We are. She’s gorgeous, sweetheart. You did an amazing job.”

“I never could have done it without you,” she told him honestly. “You’ve kept me together.”

“You didn’t need me --”

“I _do_ need you,” she insisted. “I need you every day. You don’t even have to be doing anything special. I need you just because you’re you and I’m in love with you.”

His eyes softened and he kissed her again. “I love you, too.”

Eleanor had stopped nursing so Rose unlatched her and put the baby up to her shoulder to burp. Once that was accomplished, in much the same way they’d done before Eleanor was born, Rose and Ian laid on the bed facing each other, but this time the baby was between them in a completely different way, her eyes closed and her mouth moving in an occasional sucking motion.

“It’s going to be a busy day.”

Rose smiled. “I feel like every day is going to be a busy one, now that we’re parents.”

“That’s true, but I was talking about the fact that we’re likely to get lots of visitors.”

She shrugged a little. “Not too many. The people who were at my birthday party, that’s likely it. Basically just our families.”

“Except for Auntie and Fergus,” he pointed out. 

“Right. They’ll meet her when we go up in a few weeks. Did you ring them?” 

Ian nodded. “I sent Fergus a text yesterday evening, telling him you were in labor and to tell Auntie. And I sent him a picture of her a couple hours ago, telling him she was here. He says congratulations and I’m to take good care of you and the baby.”

“You always do.”

“Marry me.”

Rose beamed. “Absolutely. Name the day.”

“I’m serious, sweetheart,” he said, his eyes nearly green, one hand digging in his pocket. “I want to marry you. I want to make you my wife.”

“I’m serious, too,” she assured him, her heart pounding excitedly. “I want to _be_ your wife.”

His eyes were wide, and she could tell she’d surprised him. “You mean it.”

“I’ve never meant anything more.”

He leaned across the baby and kissed her urgently, excitedly, his hand on the back of her head. She put her hand on his scruffy cheek, his beautiful face, and tried to wrap her mind around what they’d just agreed to do. 

After a minute he broke the kiss, but didn’t pull away before dropping multiple little kisses on her lips. Before she’d regained her senses, she felt him pulling at her left hand. He singled out her ring finger and Rose felt the tears start to flow when she saw that he had a three-stone diamond ring poised at the tip of her finger. 

“Rose Tyler,” he said, looking up at her, his eyes earnest and bright, nearly sparkling. “I thought I had a good life. I thought I had everything I could ever want. Then you walked into the room and nothing was ever the same. I fell in love with you almost from the moment I saw you. Please, be my wife and let me love you with every breath for the rest of my life.”

She was too overcome to speak, she just nodded, crying, and Ian slipped the ring onto her finger. He kissed her again, whispering, ‘thank you’, not giving her a chance to answer before he claimed her lips again. Rose was surprised to see that he was crying, same as her, but he only smiled when she wiped his cheek free of the tears he’d shed. 

“Are you alright?”

He returned the favor, wiping her cheeks. “I’m perfect. I’ve never been better.”

She leaned across and kissed him lightly, telling him she loved him, delighting in hearing that he loved her. Then she settled back down on her side of the baby, looking at the ring, this symbol of a new life with Ian. 

“It was my mother’s,” he told her. “Auntie had it, although I had no idea. She’d saved it and has been hanging onto it all this time in the hopes that I’d meet the right girl. She gave it to me on your birthday, telling me I needed to ask you to marry me before you ran away.”

“That’s never going to happen,” Rose beamed.

“Fuck, I hope not,” Ian said, kissing her ring. “But you can rest in the sure and certain knowledge that my family approves of you.”

She giggled. “Good. Had you planned on proposing when I had the baby?”

Ian shook his head. “No, I was going to ask you on Sunday. Your first Mother’s Day gift.”

“I love it,” she assured him. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

The two of them talked quietly until Ian nodded off, hands joined on the bed a few inches below Eleanor’s feet. Eleanor opened her eyes and looked up at her mother, and Rose smiled down at her. “You have blue eyes,” she whispered. “Fantastic.” And it _was_ fantastic. Her first Doctor had blue eyes, but so did Ian. And as ridiculous as it seemed, Rose wanted that connection between Ian and her daughter. She knew it was impossible, but she wanted her daughter to look like the man who would be her father. 

A knock at the door woke the new parents an hour later, but also woke Eleanor. Rose called for them to come in while Ian picked up Eleanor and walked with her around the room, singing the lullabye he’d sung to her in the womb. 

“Yes?” Rose asked the nurse who came in, doing her best to seem alert and bright-eyed, feeling completely exhausted - but the light caught the ring on her left hand and she felt utterly exhilarated, too. 

“Paperwork time!” the nurse singsonged. “Time to make baby legal! Fill out these papers and we’ll get them filed for you. I’ll be back in a couple of hours to pick them up.”

Rose looked down at the papers after the nurse left the room and while Ian was busy crooning to Eleanor. She took the pen that lay nearby and got started. 

_Mother’s Name:_ Rose Marion Tyler  
 _Mother’s Date of Birth:_ 27 April, 1987  
 _Mother’s Birthplace:_ London, England

She stared at the next blanks, asking for the father’s information and Eleanor’s name. Rose had assumed for weeks that Eleanor would be a Docherty, but she’d never had a chance to talk to him about it, and when her mother had called the baby ‘Eleanor Tyler,’ Ian had barely reacted. Now was the moment, and she knew it. A decision had to be made right now. Pete had offered to forge documents for her, he could always go back and change it if Ian decided he wanted to be her legal father, couldn’t he? Or Ian could simply adopt her...

Ian sat down next to Rose as she contemplated, Eleanor in his arms, and said, "I was born in Falkirk."

Rose’s eyes started to water and he leaned over to kiss her lightly. “I love you, sweetheart, and I love this little girl. You two… you’re my world. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, nothing at all. Or her. I love you both so fucking much, Rose. I’d move fucking mountains for either of you."

She blinked up at him. "But she’s not yours,” she whispered. “Not genetically.” 

"I don’t give a fuck about her genes. I want her to be mine," he answered softly, wiping a tear from Rose’s cheek with his thumb, “with all my heart. I don’t care about her fucking DNA. That doesn’t matter to me. I want her to be my daughter. _Ours_. Legally. Irrevocably.”

"Really?" Rose felt so small, so vulnerable - yet hopeful.

Ian smiled at her. "Yes, really. Sweetheart, these last few months, having people see me with you and assume that I was your husband, Eleanor’s father, it’s the happiest I’ve ever been. I want to put truth to people’s assumptions. I want to be what people have thought all along: your husband, her father. I want us to be a family, sweetheart. It’s all I want."

Rose picked up the pen again and hovered over the blank marked Father’s Name.

"You know this means you’re stuck with us, right? You’ll be her father forever."

"Rose, I may not have played a part in her conception, but Eleanor is my baby. She’s going to grow up calling me Daddy. I’m the one that’s going to read bedtime stories and be Santa every Christmas. I’ll wear a stupid fucking hat to play tea party with her and she’ll ride on my shoulders when we go to the zoo. When she’s older, I’ll complain that she wears too much fucking makeup and threaten the life of every idiot she brings home." Rose laughed a little at that. He grinned, then went on. "Eleanor is my _daughter_. I love her more than I could ever express, and I’m not going any-fucking-where. I’ll be her daddy until the day I die."

"Don’t say that," she admonished him quietly.

"Point is, the three of us, we’re a family. It’s what I want. It’s what you want too, right?"

She sniffled, but nodded. "More than anything."

“That piece of paper makes it official.”

Rose touched the pen to the paper.

 _Father’s Name:_ Ian Quincy Docherty  
 _Father’s Date of Birth:_ 14 April, 1966  
 _Father’s Place of Birth:_ Falkirk, Scotland

 _Child’s Name:_ Eleanor Grace Docherty  
 _Child’s Date of Birth:_ 10 May, 2012  
 _Child’s Place of Birth:_ London, England

Eleanor opened her blue eyes and studied his face. Ian looked down at the bundle in his arms, beaming with a joy Rose had only seen on his face when she told him she loved him. 

"Hey there, Little Face. Guess what? You're stuck with me. I love your mum and I love you, my sweet girl. I love you so much. I'm going to be here for a long time. I’m your father, Eleanor. Oh, love. I'm your Daddy. And you're Daddy’s baby girl."


	77. Chapter 77

10 May 2012 (cont.)

Ian looked up from his spot beside Rose on the bed after the clerk left with Eleanor’s birth paperwork and realized that visiting hours had started fifteen minutes before. Eleanor had just finished eating and Ian was taking a turn with her while Rose put on something a bit more presentable, fixing her hair and makeup, anticipating company. Ian scoffed a bit and told her that she wasn’t supposed to look like a movie star, that she’d just given birth less than twelve hours ago, but Rose hushed him. 

“We’ll be telling people we’re engaged,” she told him, smiling. “I should be wearing something other than my nightgown. Besides,” she continued, kissing him gently when he tried to protest, shutting him up quite effectively. ”People will probably be taking photos, too. We can’t all be as naturally handsome as you.”

Ian scoffed at her, but didn’t argue. What would be the point? He simply insisted that she let him help her put on the leggings she wanted to wear underneath the long, button-up tunic. Once she was dressed, he went back to the bassinet and scooped up Eleanor while Rose brushed her hair out and styled it just a little, then put on a little makeup. 

“I still look pregnant,” she complained.

“And you will for a while,” Ian told her. “At least for a couple of weeks, but more likely it’ll get better over a couple of months.”

“Ugh,” Rose groaned. “Feels like I’m going to be fat forever.”

“You’re not. You look absolutely amazing, sweetheart.”

She beamed at him. “You’re biased because you love me.”

“Damned right I do. But that doesn’t make it any less true.”

Rose giggled a little. “How’s our little princess?”

Ian felt a wave of pride and affection wash over him when he looked down at his sleeping daughter. “She’s sleeping. Thankfully, she doesn’t snore like her mother.”

Rose shot him a rude gesture, her eyes twinkling. He chuckled and went over to her so she could kiss the baby’s soft head, then bent down to kiss her himself. There was a short knock that startled them both and the door swung open. 

“Oh, good, you’re awake,” Jackie proclaimed, coming in and headed straight for her daughter, beaming. Pete just kind of stood there, just inside the room, looking uncomfortable.

With a smile on his face, Ian walked over to his best mate, adjusting the baby in preparation to hand her off. "Here you go, gramps."

Pete put both hands in the air and took a step back. "I couldn’t. I'm not --"

"Of course you are," Rose piped up from the bed, and all eyes turned towards her. “Eleanor is your granddaughter.”

Pete’s eyes were soft when he looked at Rose. “Really?”

“Yes, really. I’m...I’m sorry I’ve acted the way I have. You didn’t deserve that.”

Tears gathered in her eyes then spilled, and Pete came over and kissed the top of her head, softly. “I’m sorry for the way I reacted that night. You deserved better from your father.”

Rose gave a tentative smile. “Water under the bridge now, yeah?”

“Yeah, love.”

Pete stood back up, smiling at Rose, and Ian cleared his throat to get his attention.

“Which means,” he started, “it’s time for you to meet your granddaughter.”

Ian handed the baby over to his best friend, enjoying the look of wonder there. 

“Hello, Eleanor. I’m - what should she call me?” he asked the room at large.

“Grampa?”

“Grandad?”

“Papa?”

“Old man?” Ian suggested playfully.

“Papa,” Pete said. “I’ll be Papa.” He looked back down at the baby and smiled gently. “You and I are going to have a wonderful time, Eleanor. I missed out on your mum’s childhood. I won’t be missing yours.”

Ian caught sight of Rose - tears were flowing down both cheeks, destroying the makeup she’d just put on. He went over to her and she wordlessly scooted to the side, giving him room to sit. Once he did he pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head while they both watched Pete get acquainted with his granddaughter.

"Another generation of Tylers," Jackie said, leaning her head against Pete's shoulder so she could get a look at the baby in his arms.

"Docherty," Ian corrected. "She's a Docherty."

Both of the Tylers looked up at him, and Rose squeezed his hand, then explained. “Ian and I talked about it. We’re going to be together forever. He wants to be her father, and I want him to be. So Eleanor’s birth certificate says Ian Docherty. Ian is claiming her as his daughter and we’re raising her together.” She shot him a look and he squeezed her hand, smiling encouragingly. “As husband and wife.”

“He proposed?!” Jackie demanded, her eyes wide, and Rose barely had a chance to nod before her mother was across the room, her arms around her daughter. Rose let go of his hand so she could hug her mother back, then beamed with pride when Jackie grabbed Rose’s left hand to examine her ring finger. 

“Blimey,” she marveled. “This thing’ll blind someone. If only the girls on the estates could see you now…”

“It was his mother’s,” Rose told her. “His Auntie has been hanging onto it, hoping he’d meet the right girl.”

“And I did,” he confirmed, smiling. “Just took me a little longer.”

“Well, congratulations to the both of you,” Pete said, starting to look a little panicked. Eleanor was stirring and grunting, on the verge of crying, and the poor man clearly had no idea what to do. 

Rose reached for the baby. “Here, Dad, let me see her. It’s time for her to eat.” 

Ian was proud of the way she looked so sure of herself when she made the motions to take the baby and open her shirt so that she could put Eleanor on the breast. In deference to Pete, she did her best to cover herself modestly as she got Eleanor latched, which she did with minimal difficulty. Pete and Jackie took up seats on the little couch and Ian just smiled at the coziness of it. He and Pete had been close for nearly three decades, the best of friends, but he never would have foreseen the situation he found himself in now. Never in his wildest dreams. 

The Tylers and the Dochertys settled in, chatting comfortably. Jackie was camped out for the day, as best as Ian could tell. Pete kept having to excuse himself to take calls; he’d taken some leave from Vitex to celebrate Eleanor’s birth and had drastically reduced his workload from Torchwood for a few days, but refused to put aside all of his duties, stating that he wanted to oversee Torchwood’s role in Eleanor’s welcome into the world. Ian truly appreciated it. The Torchwood staff seemed to be keeping their distance now, with Rose being cared for by regular staff nurses whom Ian knew well and trusted. Ian wasn’t sure about the content of the calls Pete was having to take - and wasn’t entirely comfortable with it - but as far as he was concerned, things seemed to be going well.

He hadn’t had a lot of time with Eleanor since Jackie and Pete had showed up, but Ian really couldn’t be annoyed. Anytime he _did_ feel anything less than blissful, he just looked over at his fiancee and daughter. That lifted him right back into the stratosphere. They were so beautiful, both of them, and he honestly had no idea what he’d ever done to deserve the two of them, but going forward, he’d be doing anything and everything he could to stay worthy.

Their first guests of the day were Henry and Anna, who had left Philip with a minder so they could come meet Eleanor and offer their congratulations. Anna squealed when she noticed Rose’s ring, and Henry shook Ian’s hand. They excused themselves when it was time for Eleanor to eat, but she’d barely burped and Ian had hardly taken her into his arms - snatching her before Jackie could - when there was another knock on the door. Bill and Clara came in, exuberant as always, bubbling over with excitement. His two favorite employees crowded around him to see the baby, cooing over her and how beautiful she was. Ian took a great deal of pleasure in telling them her name - Eleanor Grace Docherty. 

“Docherty?” Clara asked with raised eyebrow. 

“I’m listed as her father. She’s mine, in every way but one.”

“So?” Bill asked Clara, grinning. “Who won the pool?”

“Which one?”

“What fucking pool?” Ian snapped, bouncing Eleanor. 

“There are pools at the office. Three of them. £5 ante for each one. One of them was for what date Eleanor would be born. I didn’t look before I left, but I think Sandra in bookkeeping won that one. I think she won upwards of £200.”

“Well, what were the other ones?” Jackie asked, butting in. 

Clara smirked. “Whether or not the Doctor was going to admit Eleanor is his. There were four options - and everyone who placed their bet on the winning option gets to split the pot.”

“What were the options?” Ian demanded at the same time Rose asked, “And the third?”

“The third is still in play. It’s another date pool - when is he going to propose to you?”

Ian and Rose shared a grin and he went to sit beside her with the baby. “Well, congratulations to whoever put their money on May tenth…” Rose said with a grin, holding up her left hand, letting the light catch the diamonds in her ring. 

Clara and Bill squealed, both rushing over and hugging her around the neck. Ian just shushed Eleanor, even as he smiled at the antics, noticing when Pete excused himself with the mobile to one ear and the other ear plugged so he could hear the call he’d just gotten. Jackie just smiled from her seat in the chair Ian had slept in. 

“When did he ask you?” Bill demanded.

“Only a few hours ago,” she smiled, looking over at Ian, who dropped a quick kiss to her lips. “I thought him moving me into his house was as settled as he would ever be. Marriage seemed like a pipe dream.”

He grinned and kissed her again. “You thought wrong.”

Bill made a little retching sound with a grin, then the two women started peppering Rose with questions that they really couldn’t answer yet, about dates and plans and whatnot. 

Clara kept casting longing looks at Eleanor, and Ian finally caught on. “Clara, do you want to hold her?” The younger woman practically leapt towards him, and Ian laughed when he placed his daughter gently into Clara’s arms. She cooed at the baby, telling her how beautiful she was while Ian put his now-free arm around his sweetheart and pulled her into his side. 

“Don’t give me that look,” Bill said warningly to her girlfriend. 

“But Bill --”

“I told you. Once we’ve married and moved into a better flat, we’ll talk about it.”

“You two are getting married?” Ian asked, surprised. 

“Next year,” Clara supplied. “Well, that’s the plan, anyway. We need to find a better flat and want to save a bit more. It’s looking like next summer or fall.”

“Congratulations!” Rose exclaimed, leaning forward and hugging both women. Ian congratulated them as well, but privately started wondering about giving them each a raise to help them along the way. They both more than deserved it for putting up with him for so long. He refrained from speaking, though, recognizing that he was a bit more emotional than usual. Besides, this wasn’t the appropriate place to give them something like that.

Bill took a turn holding the baby, then handed her over to Rose when she started to fuss. Clara had started chatting with Jackie, Rose was getting Eleanor latched, so Ian chatted with Bill. 

“Clara got so excited she forgot to tell you, but we talked about it and we’d like to offer babysitting as our gift to you to celebrate Eleanor’s birth. You two are going to have things to do, you’re going to need time together as a couple, too. Not just parents.”

His reply of “You don’t have to do that” was cut off by Rose’s “Thank you, bless you,” and the matter was effectively decided for him. He supposed he’d better get used to that, now that she was soon to be his wife. There was no point in arguing - besides, he had no problem with Bill and Clara watching his baby. Well, he amended to himself, no more problem than he would have with anyone else in their friends and family. Ian suspected he was going to be obnoxiously protective of his little girl. 

Ian had just settled back on the bed with Rose after saying goodbye to Bill and Clara when Rose’s stomach growled. His protective instincts were engaged - as were Jackie’s - and they started encouraging her to eat. 

“You have to eat, sweetheart,” Jackie started in an almost wheedling tone.

“I don’t want anything right now.”

“I’ll get you anything you want,” Ian offered. “Anything you’re craving. Dumplings? Cheeseburger? I’ll get you chips and lots of vinegar.”

Rose laughed. “I’ll eat soon. I’m not ready to put her down.”

“Well, there are several restaurants who deliver to the hospital. We could go ahead and order now. She should be quiet for the next hour or so, anyway, that’ll give you time to eat.”

“I’m sure they’ll be bringing lunch around soon,” Rose hedged, lowering Eleanor so that she was cradled and adjusting the blanket she was swaddled in. “I’m fine, really.” 

There was a knock at the door, and Rose smirked. “See? Lunch is here. Nobody needs to do anything.”

Ian didn’t get a chance to roll his eyes before the door opened. A tall, familiar figure came in with a huge bouquet of flowers in one hand, the other hand holding an enormous pink-and-white balloon bouquet which obscured his face, and a large teddy bear in a navy blue and white footballer’s uniform tucked under his arm. For a split second, Ian thought that maybe the exhaustion and stress of the last twenty-four hours had broken his mind and he was hallucinating. 

"Fergus, what are you doing here?"

"New bairn in the family!” His cousin exclaimed grandly, beaming. “Got myself a niece, don’t I? Took a wee family leave.”

"How did you even --" 

"Rang Ringo on the way here. You never did say which hospital, figured he'd know. Good thing I did, because he put me on the authorized list. Because I couldn’t ring you, now could I? Didn't want to bother you. Know how you new parents need your rest."

The words ‘family leave’ and ‘new parents’ bounced around in his mind but before he could make sense of anything, Fergus was going on, holding up each object as he explained their origins. “The flowers are from Mam. She’s cross with me, since I didn’t ring her to tell her I was on the way until after the sun came up and I was halfway here. She wanted to come but it was too early; she was asleep, yeah? That’s what she gets for being late to rise.” He sat the huge bouquet down on the rolling table, then held up the balloons. “I’d no intentions of getting balloons, didn’t want to overdo it, but the bonnie lass at the counter winked at me. What’s a man to do?” 

Rose giggled from the bed and Ian relaxed a little. 

“The bear is from me, as is this.” Fergus bent over and kissed Rose on the cheek when he sat the bear beside her. Ian felt a flare of jealousy for only a moment before Fergus pulled back and laid his hand on Eleanor’s head gently. 

“She’s lovely, Birdie.”

“Thank you, Fergus. I’m touched that you came.”

Ian was, too, much more than he could ever say. 

“Couldn’t have missed this, could I? It’s not every day your much-older brother becomes a da.”

Rose giggled and Ian knew what he had to do. He rolled his eyes. “I’m only eight months older than you, you bloody menace.”

“I’m still younger,” Fergus gloated, then turned his attention to Jackie. “Speaking of younger, why, Jackie Tyler, as I live and breathe.” 

Fergus went over to shake her hand and gave her the KnickerBurner just before he bent over her hand and kissed it. Jackie batted her eyes a little in response, and Ian and Rose shared a glance. 

“I didn’t see you sitting there, what with little Eleanor here. But I’m pleased to see you. Never got a chance to speak to you at Rose’s birthday party. Blimey, I’d forgotten how beautiful you are. It’s clear where little Ellie - and Rose - get their good looks and charm.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Fergus. You’re not calling her Ellie!”

“She’s my wee niece, I’ll call her what I please!”

Ian started to argue back but Rose laid her hand on his chest. “I’m sure that she’ll love having a nickname from you, Fergus. That’ll make her feel special.”

Fergus smirked at Ian, and he shot his cousin a dirty gesture where Rose couldn’t see it - but Jackie could. Jackie chuckled, Fergus’ eyes twinkled, and he went on. “But as I was saying, Jackie, you look simply radiant. Entirely too young to be a gran.”

“Is there _anyone_ you won’t flirt with?” Ian asked tiredly.

“I won’t flirt with you, if it helps. And I canna help myself. Bonnie ladies like these, I simply must show my appreciation. To do otherwise would be terribly rude.”

Rose giggled beside him and he couldn’t help but grin when he pulled her a little closer and kissed the top of her head. She raised the baby a little in an offer to Fergus. “Would you like to hold her?”

"Absolutely!” 

Surprising the hell out of Ian, Fergus put a squirt of the sanitizer in his palm unprompted and scrubbed his hands with it. That done, he reached for Eleanor. He took her and although Ian had never known Fergus to be anywhere near a baby, he looked natural.

"Let me get a look at this bairn. Well now, that's the bonniest wee lass I ever did see. Takes after her mother." He winked at Rose. 

"Fergus..." Ian warned. 

Fergus paid him absolutely no mind. "Hello there, Ellie. I'm your Uncle Graham.”

“We’ve been over this,” Ian complained tiredly, but Rose just swatted him on the leg, hushing him, then nestled deeper into his arms. 

“You and I are going to have such adventures, Ellie. Your da and I used to traipse all through the woods and around the loch, pretending we were explorers. We even had a treehouse. Your da’s a stick in the mud now, but you and I… well, you and I will go be explorers together. And maybe we can rebuild that treehouse.”

Ian felt his eyes pricking with tears, the emotions that were so close to the surface today bubbling up again. To change the subject and save his pride, he nodded his head towards the bear and his lip curled in amusement. “Scotland National?”

"The lass needs to know where she comes from. Her da is Scottish - well, at least _part_ Scottish. I’m certain ye’ll neglect her education when it comes to football, so her beloved and doting Uncle Graham will be taking her to matches.” He looked back down at the baby with such tenderness, Ian felt his eyes welling again. “You’ll be a brilliant footballer, I just know it,” he told her. 

His voice a little more gruff than usual, Ian scoffed, “She’s only half a day old and already a better player than most of Scotland National.”

“Canna deny that. But she should know her roots, don’t ye ken?”

Jackie spoke up from the chair in the corner. “You’re exactly right. She should be proud of her heritage. The bear is a lovely way to get started on that. How clever of you.”

Fergus preened and Ian groaned. But it wasn’t long before Fergus’ attention was on the baby again, arranging her so he could selfie with her. 

“What are you doing?”

“Taking a picture! What do you call them, a selfie? I promised Geoff I’d send a picture.”

Geoff Brewer was Fergus’ friend from work and drinking buddy, the closest friend Fergus had apart from Ian. He was essentially Fergus’ version of Pete, and Ian had known him through Fergus for years. But he couldn’t understand why Geoff would want a picture of his daughter. 

“Why does Geoff want a picture?”

“He doesn’t believe that I’m an uncle. More to the point, he doesn’t believe that legendary bachelor, Ian Docherty, is a father.”

“I am,” he said, chest puffing proudly. 

“And he won’t be a bachelor much longer. He’s making an honest woman out of me,” Rose declared happily, holding her left hand out for Fergus to see, waggling her finger a little so the diamonds caught the light. Ian squeezed her. 

“Well, now,” Fergus said, using one hand to hold Rose’s hand still and examine the ring. “That’s gorgeous, that is. Almost as beautiful as the bonnie bride to be. Congratulations!”

There was a knock on the door and Ian thought, with some relief, that food had finally arrived. He was appalled, therefore, to see Joan stepping through the door, wearing her work scrubs and carrying a modest bouquet of pink flowers. His entire body went rigid and he did his best to prepare himself for whatever she wanted. 

Fergus dropped Rose’s hand as soon as she came in, but Rose simply laid her hand on Ian’s knee, the diamonds still sparkling prettily. Ian saw Joan’s eyes drop down to take in the sight before she smiled. 

“Hello, I don’t know if you remember me. My name is --”

“Joan,” Rose supplied, smiling. “Yes, you’re a friend of Ian’s, and we saw you yesterday as we were coming in. I remember.”

She looked taken aback, as if she hadn’t expected Rose to know her, and Ian wasn’t quite sure what to do. He started to panic, but his sweetheart stepped up. 

“So sweet of you to come by. I don’t believe you’ve met my mother, Jackie, or Ian’s cousin, Graham. And of course, Graham has little Eleanor.”

Jackie got to her feet to shake Joan’s hand and Ian stood so he could take the baby from Fergus. His cousin shook Joan’s hand, bending over it a little, but much to his surprise, didn’t give her the KnickerBurner.

“It’s nice to meet you, Joan…”

“Redfern.”

“How do you know our Ian?”

Ian tensed, his arms like steel around the baby as he sat next to Rose and did his best to play it cool. 

“The Doctor and I have worked together for many years. I like to think we’re something like friends.”

Thank _Christ_ , Eleanor made a sound and Ian was able to look away without answering. 

“Rose, did I hear you say that you and the Doctor would be getting married?”

She beamed over at him for a second before she looked at Joan. “Yes. He just asked a few hours ago.”

“Congratulations,” Joan smiled tersely. “Such a short courtship!”

“I guess when you know, you know,” Rose said, smiling over at him again and tugging his arm for a quick kiss. This disturbed Eleanor, making her fuss, and Rose extracted her from his arms. 

Ian felt compelled to say _something_ , he’d been silent so far, so he asked, “You’re working today?”

“Yes. I’m on my lunch. Wanted to come by and say hello before I went back on duty, maybe get a look at this little girl.”

Rose gestured with Eleanor, signaling for Joan to come over and see her. She did so, hesitantly, and Ian saw the warring emotions on her face when he slipped his arm around Rose’s waist. Eleanor had quieted in her mother’s arms, going back to sleep almost at once when Mummy had her. 

“Her eyes are blue,” Rose volunteered. “Like her daddy’s.”

“I’m sure they’re gorgeous,” Joan demurred, then stood, backing away. “I have to get back to work. Graham, Jackie, it was nice to meet you. Rose, Doctor, congratulations.” 

Ian murmured thanks and raised a hand to Joan. She met his eyes and there was a wealth of emotion there, but he gave her nothing. It had never been what she wanted and what there _had_ been had been over for nearly a year, but now he hoped she knew. It was _over_.

She nodded and backed out of the door. 

“Well!” Fergus exclaimed grandly. “Always nice to meet some of my brother’s friends. But if you don’t mind, I have a job to do.” He came over to the bed and tugged on Ian’s arm. “C’mon. Up off yer arse. Let’s let these ladies have some girl time. You need to eat. Told Mam I’d make sure you were taking care of yourself.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Go,” Jackie said, making a shooing motion, getting to her feet eagerly. “Go eat lunch with your cousin.”

“Honestly, I’m not hungry.”

“Bet you are,” Fergus teased. “I’ll bet you just don’t want to leave your lasses. Which is understandable, bonnie as they are. But you’ll be no good to them if you don’t eat. Besides, I’m betting the new gran would like to get her hands on the bairn, and you’ve been a baby hog.”

Jackie snorted a laugh.

“Oh, fuck off,” Ian protested. “I haven’t been a baby hog and I don’t need to go. I’m staying.”

“Ian,” Rose said quietly from under his arm, in a low tone not meant for anyone else to hear. “Go eat with Fergus. I’m not going anywhere, yeah? Neither is Eleanor. We’ll be here when you get back.”

“What if you need me?” he murmured back. 

“I’ll ring you. But my nurses are brilliant and Mum is here... it’ll be fine. Go. You need to get out of this room.”

“You need to eat, sweetheart.”

“I’m sure that food service will be around shortly with a meal, but you can bring me something back. I’d like that.”

Ian sighed, defeated. “Fine,” he said at a normal tone. “I’ll go with my bampot cousin.” Rose beamed up at him and he bent low to kiss Eleanor’s downy head. “Daddy loves you.” Then he raised his head and kissed Rose softly. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“You want something from the cafeteria? The food is pretty good.”

She chuckled and kissed the tip of his nose. “You can go to a restaurant. It’s fine.”

“Rose --”

“If you go to Rocco’s, you could even get me some fish fingers and custard.”

“You’re fucking joking.” Rose giggled and he sighed, bending to kiss her again. “We’re going to Rocco’s. I have my phone. I love you.”

She gave him one more quick kiss. “I love you. Go away.”

“Yes ma’am.” He got up, went over to a grinning Fergus, and punched him in the arm. 

“Ow!”

“Take me to lunch, ye twat. We’re going to Rocco’s.”

“So I heard,” Fergus smirked. 

His cousin gave an elaborate bow to the women of the room and Ian gave Rose and Eleanor a small wave as they left the room. The door had barely closed behind them and Fergus was already making a whip cracking noise.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Ian demanded. “Are you fucking sneezing?”

"Maybe you should start practicing now: ‘Yes, dear.’"

"Fuck you," Ian snapped in a slightly lowered voice, nodding to the staff he knew as they passed the nurse’s station. 

"Not my fault you’ve lost your spine.” 

"I’ve done no such thing and you can fuck right off."

"Best not say something like that to the missus. That'll earn you the couch, that will."

Ian sighed as he pushed the button to the lift, but couldn’t help but smile. Fergus’ teasing had a lot less sting to it than it had before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fanart from lblamm76! Thank you so much!!!


	78. Chapter 78

10 May, 2012 (cont.)

"How's it feel?" Fergus asked just before popping a chip into his mouth. 

"How's what feel?"

"Fatherhood.”

Ian beamed. “Fucking fantastic.”

“It sure looks like it from this end. I haven't ever seen you this happy - including when you brought Rose up to meet Mam. This bairn makes you smile brighter than I’ve ever seen."

Ian pulled out his phone and pressed the home button just so he could see his lock screen - the photo he’d taken of himself and Eleanor. "She really is fucking gorgeous, isn't she?"

"Aye. Most babies look like Winston Churchill for a while, but not this one. She’s a fine niece, and it’ll be my honor to spoil her rotten.”

That sobered Ian a bit and he leaned forward onto his elbows. “Fergus, I need to ask you something.”

“You sound serious.”

“I’m deadly serious.”

Fergus pushed his soda out of the way and leaned forward on his own elbows. “Go on, then. Are you alright? Do you need something?”

“I’m fine. But yes, I need something. This is the most important question I’ve ever asked anyone - or will ever ask.”

“You’re worrying me a little, Ian.”

“I need to know that if something were to happen to me and Rose - like what happened to my parents - you’d take care of Eleanor.” He was startled when Fergus threw his head back and laughed. “I’m serious,” he insisted.

“I know you are, which is part of what makes it so funny. Ian, do you honestly think I’d let anything happen to my own brother’s child, for feck’s sake? I’m damn near offended that you even felt the need to ask!”

Ian was warmed, his mind was eased, but he needed to clarify. “It wouldn’t crimp your style much. Pete would probably take her in and they'd raise her but… don't forget about her. She's your niece, Fergus. Watch over her - for me."

"I would. You know I would. Move into the fecking cottage if need be."

“I doubt that’d be necessary. I doubt _any_ of it would be necessary. But I’ll sleep better knowing you’re willing.”

“More than willing. It’d be my honor.” Fergus picked up another chip and smirked a little. “Speaking of ‘more than willing’...”

Ian felt a thrill of dread. “What?”

“Joan.”

His entire body cringed. 

"Maybe ye do like blondes, after all, eh?”

“Fuck off.”

“You want to tell me about it?"

"There's nothing to tell."

“Oh, there’s something to tell,” Fergus scoffed. “She looked at you like you were the Holy Grail, but you barely glanced at her at all. What happened?"

"It's not your business," he ground out. 

“You’re right. Your sex life is not my business. But I care about Rose, and I need to know if you’re about to hurt her.”

“Fuck no, I’m not!” Ian burst out.

"Were you dipping into two pots at once?"

“From the --” he started to shout, but leaned forward instead and lowered his voice. "From the moment I laid eyes on Rose Tyler, I haven't been able to even fucking _daydream_ about another woman, let alone fucking _touch_ one. Whatever Joan and I had ended the second that happened. Rose is everything to me, absolutely everything. I’ll never intentionally hurt her."

“What happened then? With Joan.”

Ian ground his teeth, not wanting to even think about this particular subject at all, and certainly not on the happiest day of his life. But he knew his cousin well enough to know that Fergus wouldn’t be letting it go. His defensive hackles were up, and Ian would have to address it somehow. 

“Joan and I...dated, I suppose, for a few months several years ago. I never really clicked with her and it had become just sex on my part, so I ended things. We still saw each other occasionally, though, to scratch the itch if need be. Couple times a year. Not enough for Joan, but she didn’t complain out loud.”

“And that’s over?”

“So fucking over,” he confirmed. 

Fergus slapped Ian’s shoulder. “Good lad. Now. I’ve a surprise for you, although I think it’s best I tell you about it. You’re not going to want to walk out to the car and look in the boot.”

Thrown a little off by the abrupt 180, Ian’s curiosity was still piqued. “What is it?”

“Our bassinet. Mam cleaned it up, repainted it, bought a new mattress, and decorated it with pink fabric to make it ready for the baby.”

He sat back in his chair, touched - and more than a little relieved. “Oh, thank God for that.”

Fergus looked confused. “For what?”

“For that bassinet. I didn’t have anywhere for her to fucking sleep.”

“Of course you did,” the other man laughed. “I saw the furniture in the room.”

“Aye, but it hasn’t been put together yet. I only finished painting a couple of days ago. I wasn’t expecting Rose to go early, I figured she’d be _over_ due.” Ian sighed, rubbing his fingers along his forehead then pinching the bridge of his nose. “Rose isn’t happy, but it is what it is. I’ll get the room together when we get home from the hospital.”

“Ah, buck up, ye tosspot. It’s the happiest day of your life! You’ve a daughter today!”

A smile bloomed across Ian’s face. “Yeah, I do. And I haven’t seen her in fifty-four minutes, so let’s order Rose’s food and get the fuck out of here.”

~*~O~*~

Ian sparred pleasantly with Fergus all the way back to the hospital, carrying the grease-spotted bag full of fish, chips, and custard for his fiance. He stopped at the security checkpoint that had been set up for the duration of their stay and presented his hospital-issued bracelet that identified him as Eleanor’s father. Fergus had to present ID and his name, which was found on a short list of acceptable visitors left by Pete. Once they were clear, the two went down the hall towards Rose’s room, and Ian felt himself growing more excited with every step. In just a moment, he’d be back with Rose, and as soon as he got her food situated, he’d be holding his daughter again.

He hushed Fergus when they got close to the door and he heard voices. Once he identified the other speaker as male, he hastened his step a little, his protective instinct kicking in strongly. The voice was familiar, but it was male and not Pete, so he still hurried. When he got to the door, it was ajar and he pushed it open to find Mickey sitting on the foot of the bed, talking to Rose. His sweetheart’s face brightened when she saw him come in, and he tamped down the flash of jealousy he felt. 

“Ian,” she said, smiling brightly, with eyes only for him. 

In three strides he was across the room, bending over to kiss her, then stooping lower to kiss the baby. “Hello, sweetheart,” he said with soft eyes. “Where are your mum and dad?”

“They left. I’d planned on sleeping but…” She shook her head, still smiling a little. “I think sleep may be a thing of the past for a while.”

“I’ll make sure you get a little sleep, don’t worry.” He kissed her forehead again then stood and acknowledged the Idiot that was still sitting at the foot of the bed. “Mickey.”

Mickey got to his feet, offering his hand. “Ian.”

Ian indicated Fergus. “I don’t believe you’ve met my cousin.”

“Course he has,” Fergus said jovially, bouncing forwards to take Mickey’s hand. “Rose’s birthday party. Good to see you, Mickey.”

“Good to see you, Graham. I was just leaving.”

“You don’t have to go, Micks,” Rose told him.

He smiled at her. “You need time with your family. I’m going to be around, don’t worry.” The younger man bent and kissed Rose’s cheek. “She’s beautiful. You did an amazing job.”

“Thank you, Micks. Thank you for coming.”

“My pleasure, babe.”

Ian bristled and Fergus’ eyebrow shot up at the word ‘babe’, but before he could really react, Mickey was offering his hand again. He took it, and Mickey surprised him by saying, “I always thought it would be me. But I’m glad it was you.”

He was unexpectedly touched and his voice was a bit gruffer than usual when he said ‘thanks’. Mickey shook hands with Fergus one more time, then gave everyone a pleasant wave, and Ian watched him leave. Maybe the idiot wasn’t so bad. 

“What did you bring me?” Rose asked, leaning over to the bag from Rocco’s, hooking a finger in the top and peering inside. The sound tore him out of his reverie and he turned back to her.

“Fish fingers and custard, you vile thing,” he said, kissing her grin at being called ‘vile’. 

“You love it. Admit it.”

“Fish fingers and custard? Not fucking remotely. But I do love _you_ ,” he told her, kissing the tip of her nose and extending his hand behind his back to flick a V at a laughing Fergus, making him snort. Ignoring that, he turned his eyes to the baby Rose held. “And I love this little lady, too. C’mere, Little Face,” he said, reaching for her. Rose lifted her towards him, to aid with the transfer, but Fergus interrupted with a shout. 

“Oi! Don’t touch that baby!”

Ian stared at him, hands still outstretched for Eleanor. “What the fuck are you talking about? She’s my _daughter._ ”

“Aye, but you just came back from a germy chippie with tables like a petri dish. You haven’t washed your hands, and now you’re going to touch your baby?”

Ian’s hands retracted a little while his mind spun. Who the hell was this bloke, and what had he done with Fergus?

“Here,” Fergus said, tossing over a bottle of hand sanitizer. “That’ll help. Although you might want to reconsider that shirt…”

Ian looked down at the shirt he wore. He’d had it on for well over twenty-four hours and Fergus was right, he’d been in all sorts of environments in that time. He didn’t want all those germs rubbing against his tiny daughter’s face…

Grumbling, he went to the duffel bag on the couch and grabbed out the first shirt that he came to - a Ramones t-shirt that he liked to wear on days off. He pulled off his untucked oxford and his vest and pulled it on, feeling a little refreshed by the cool fabric. Then he took the hand sanitizer and went to the sink where he washed thoroughly before he applied the sanitizer to his arms and forearms, just in case. All that done, he went back around to Rose, who was failing to hide a large smile behind her bit lip. 

“Shush, you,” he admonished her, making her giggle, and he reached for Eleanor. 

He couldn’t help the large smile that spread all over his face when he got her in his arms. Rose had dressed her in one of her own outfits, and she was bundled in a pink receiving blanket they’d brought from home. Her head was uncovered, leaving dark, downy hair exposed, and Ian couldn’t help but kiss her smooth forehead. She opened her blue eyes to blink up at him and he melted.

“Hey there, Daddy’s baby. Did I wake you? I’m sorry, little one.” 

Fergus and Rose chatted with each other while Rose ate her fish and chips, but Ian was wrapped up in Eleanor and only chimed in when he was asked a question or Fergus was being a twat. Towards the ends of Rose’s meal, the phone beside the bed rang, startling everyone but the sleeping Eleanor, and Rose looked around for a napkin to wipe her greasy fingers before she answered. 

“I’ll get it, sweetheart,” he told her, cradling Eleanor in one arm and picking the phone up with his newly freed hand. “Hello?”

“Dr. Docherty?”

“Speaking.”

“This is Chad at the security checkpoint. We have a woman here who isn’t on the list and wants to get in.”

“Well, who is she?” he demanded, then held the receiver a little way from his mouth to answer Rose and Fergus’ questioning looks. “Someone wants to get in.”

“Tell them to bugger off,” Fergus laughed. 

Ian started to do just that, rather enjoying this downtime with his brother and fiancee, but the Torchwood agent answered his question. “Her name is Grace Fitzgerald. She says she’s your aunt, sir?”

“Grace Fitzgerald?!” Ian demanded, shocked, and Fergus swore loudly. 

“Auntie’s here?” Rose asked.

“She’s telling the truth. Let her in,” Ian snapped.

“We can’t, sir. Someone has to vouch for her.” 

“Son of a… someone will be right there.” 

He slammed the receiver down and before he could say anything, Fergus was cleaning his hands with hand sanitizer. “Here. Give her to me.” Ian gave him a curious look when he reached for Eleanor. “If I’m holding the baby, Mam can’t hit me. She was more than a little cross when I told her I was on the way here without her.”

Ian rolled his eyes but handed Eleanor over, kissing Rose quickly and stepping out into the hall. Belatedly, he realized he was still wearing a ratty old t-shirt and hadn’t shaved since his birthday. Sighing and sure he was about to get an earful, he hustled down to the checkpoint to fetch his Auntie. She was waiting very patiently when he spotted her and waved. She smiled. Ian had a quick discussion with the security officers, vouched for who his aunt was, and then the two of them headed back to the room together. 

“How is she?”

“Rose or Eleanor?”

“Both. The baby’s a bit early…”

“She’s fine,” Ian assured his aunt. “A good weight at a little over six pounds, and her lungs are plenty healthy.”

Auntie chuckled. “Cries a lot, does she?”

Ian shook his head. “No, actually. She’s been a dream baby so far. Fusses when she’s hungry or wet.”

They didn’t get to have any more discussion, since they’d reached the door to Rose’s room. Ian led the way in, but his auntie swept by him and rushed to Rose, engulfing her in a hug. Rose hugged her back, laughing a little at something his aunt said that he didn’t catch, and her eyes were wet when Auntie pulled back and patted her cheek. 

“Such a brave girl,” Auntie said proudly. 

“She’s the bravest woman I’ve ever known,” Ian bragged, going to sit on the bed beside Rose and putting an arm around her, his whole body relaxing just a little when she leaned over into him. 

Auntie smiled at the two of them together, then turned to find Fergus sitting in the chair with Eleanor. He tensed as she started towards him. “Mam, I can explain...”

“Hush. I’ll deal with you later. Now let me see that baby.” Fergus adjusted the blanket so Eleanor’s face was showing and Auntie bent down to peer at her, cooing. “May I hold her?” she asked Rose.

Fergus drew back in the chair, pulling the baby away. “Not until you wash your hands.”

Ian managed to turn his snort of laughter into a cough, and Auntie said, “Excuse me?”

“You just got off a zeppelin, Mam. You’re covered in germs. I won’t give you this baby until you wash your hands.”

Rose tittered a little and Ian shushed her almost silently while trying to bite back his own laughter. He had no idea what had gotten into Fergus, but anyone who was protective of his daughter was welcome to be so. 

Auntie rolled her eyes and went to wash her hands, then came back for the baby, taking her from Fergus and snuggling her close. Ian’s eyes pricked and he couldn’t stop the tears at the sight of the woman who had raised him holding his daughter. For the thousandth time, he wished his parents could have seen Eleanor. 

“Well, now,” Auntie said. “Aren’t you a sight? I’ve seldom seen a baby as pretty as you.”

Ian thought he would burst with pride. “We think she’s rather pretty.”

“Looks more than a bit like you did,” Aunt Grace said, peering at Eleanor and then Ian. “You were a bonny baby. Prettiest baby I’d ever seen, till today.”

“Oi!” Fergus protested. “What about me? Your own son?”

Aunt Grace turned and told him, “You had a face only a mother could love when you were born. Looked like a bullfrog, bless.”

“Oi!”

“Don’t worry,” Aunt Grace said, patting his cheek with her free hand. “You grew into your looks.”

Ian bit back a laugh while Fergus fumed. 

“What did you name her?”

Ian and Rose glanced at each other, and Ian gave her a squeeze before he looked at his aunt. “We named her Eleanor.”

"Well, yes, I knew that. Eleanor what?"

"Grace."

Auntie looked up, startled, and Rose said gently, with a smile, "We named her after her Gran."

“You didn’t,” Auntie said, her own eyes filling with tears.

“We did. Say hello to Eleanor Grace Docherty. My daughter.”

Auntie’s tears fell, and she looked down at the baby. “Eleanor Docherty. You’re beautiful and your Gran loves you. But I do hope, for your Mam’s sake, that you’re less of a handful than your Da was.”

Rose giggled beside him and Ian just smiled. “There’s more, Auntie,” he said.

“More?”

“This morning, I asked Rose to marry me. She said yes.”

“So I’ll be gaining a daughter, too,” Auntie said, sounding satisfied. 

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Well,” she said, bouncing the baby in place, beaming. “This is certainly one of the better days in my long life.”

~*~O~*~

Fergus and Auntie only stayed a few hours before they made their excuses to leave. Auntie asked Fergus to take her to the airport, stating she was going home to Glasgow so she’d ‘be out of their hair’. As he had done on her birthday, Ian absolutely insisted that his family stay with them, the way they usually would. There was a minor argument, which Rose settled by interrupting and telling Auntie sincerely that she wanted them to stay, they wouldn’t be a bother at all, and she would actually be terribly grateful for the help. The matter was settled then, and Rose was pleased. They had left shortly after, going back to the house.

“She’ll cook, you know,” Ian said, tearing Rose’s attention away from Eleanor’s eating. 

“Auntie?”

“Yeah. The house is going to smell fucking divine.”

Rose giggled and leaned over into him. He kissed the top of her head and the two of them gazed in wonder down at their little girl. It seemed to Rose that about half of the time she’d spent in her hospital bed had seen Ian sitting right next to her. She certainly didn’t mind being nuzzled up in close proximity to him, one or the other of them holding Eleanor. 

“What are those little bumps there?” Rose asked a little later. She and Ian were both reclining back against the bed comfortably and Eleanor was sleeping on her daddy’s chest. Rose had her head on his shoulder and a hand resting on his arm. She was cozy and comfortable, and knew she could doze off, given half the chance. 

“Where?”

“Right there,” she said, pointing to the baby’s nose. “Those little white bumps.”

“Milia,” he answered confidently. “Milk bumps. Perfectly normal. They’ll go away in a few weeks.”

Rose nodded and Eleanor shifted a little on Ian. She shushed the baby, stroking her back, and Ian started humming a Beatles’ song to her. It was all so peaceful, Rose couldn’t help it. She felt herself drifting.

A sharp knock at the door woke her up, startling the little family. Neither of them had time to soothe the baby before the door was opening and Rose braced herself to play hostess to another guest. She was surprised, therefore, when Dr. Ross came into the room, smiling. 

“Knock, knock,” she said. 

“Yes, come in,” Rose told her, and she and Ian sat up, Ian cradling the baby. “How are you?”

“The better question is, how are _you_? Any abnormal bleeding or anything?”

Rose shook her head no and Ian got off the bed, bouncing Eleanor, headed to the window. Dr. Ross asked Rose a few more questions, then started wrapping up. “I don’t see any reason why you can’t go home tomorrow. I’ll be back in the morning and most likely release you then, but I doubt they’ll let you go before tomorrow afternoon. The paperwork moves slowly.”

“We’ll see if Pete can speed it up a little,” Ian volunteered, turning around. “There’s stuff that needs to be done.”

Rose felt a flash of irritation, knowing exactly what he was talking about, but let it go.

Dr. Ross smiled at him. “I knew this whole pregnancy that you were going to be a baby hog, Docherty, but I thought you’d at least let me see her.”

“I was trying to give the two of you privacy,” he explained. “Best as I could in this tiny fucking room, anyway. You all done?”

“Done,” Ross answered. “Let me see this little girl.” Ian did as asked. “She’s beautiful,” Dr. Ross cooed. “And you named her Eleanor?”

“Eleanor Grace Docherty.” Rose was thrilled by the proud look on Ian’s face when he told Dr. Ross their daughter’s name, thrilled that he was getting to have this moment. 

“That’s a lovely name. Is she named after anyone?”

“Her gran,” Ian answered at the same time Rose said, “Ian’s Auntie.” They looked at each other and chuckled a little while Dr. Ross looked back and forth between them. 

“Same woman?”

“Yeah. My Auntie raised me.”

The trio took pictures with the baby then, Ross holding Eleanor and posing with Ian, then with Rose, and she cooed over the baby a little more. Rose ended up with the baby, still in the bed, and Dr. Ross bent over to give her a gentle hug. “Make sure he takes good care of you,” she admonished. 

“I’m certain he will,” Rose assured her. 

Ian offered his hand to Dr. Ross as she went to leave. “Thank you, Christine. Really. I’ll never be able to repay you.”

“You’re welcome,” she answered, patting Ian on the arm. “Just take care of these girls.”

“I will,” he pledged, and Dr. Ross waved goodbye. Rose settled back into the bed, knowing her parents would be coming soon, but beckoned Ian to join her. Might as well cuddle while they had the time. 

When Jackie arrived thirty minutes later, all three of them were asleep on the bed.


	79. Chapter 79

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Anniversary to us! One year ago today, the idea for this fic was born. If you had sat either of us down and told us that anyone would even read it, we probably would have laughed at you. Who cares about Twelve and Rose? We might be crucified for suggesting canon!Rose could love anyone besides the canon!Doctor. But we loved the idea so much that we worked on this story every single day. Ideas and characters were born, ideas and characters went out the window. 
> 
> In the early drafts, Ian and Rose didn’t become a couple until Eleanor was six weeks old. Fergus was just a wild idea that one of us had for some comic relief and he was only supposed to be in one scene. Now he’s (quite likely) getting his own spinoff story. Auntie didn't exist. In the past 365 days, this story has grown, evolved, and changed, and we love it more now than we did that morning in 2017. 
> 
> Huge thanks to Rose--Nebula who has encouraged us every step of the way and loves Ian and Fergus nearly as much as we do. She continues to help us plan and develop and keeps us going when we feel run down and can't go another word. Thank you, Rose--Nebula.
> 
> Huge thanks to YOU who have read, commented, and gone on this journey with us. Knowing we’re not alone is amazing; your comments, kudos, fanart, and other encouragement have been more than we ever dreamed of. We'd hug all of you if we could. 
> 
> Stay buckled in, though! This story isn't over...

12 May 2012

Ian had been relieved when he got a text from Fergus saying that he and Auntie were going to dinner at the Tyler mansion. That would give himself and Rose time to go home with the baby and get a little settled in before their families descended on them. With any luck, Rose could lie down on the bed with Eleanor and Ian could put together the cot while she rested.

He sighed a little. That room was going to be a bitch. Thankfully Fergus was staying with him. Maybe Ian could bribe him into helping somehow - or at least into keeping him company. 

Rose rode in the wheelchair down the corridor towards the exit, where Henry was waiting. They’d been alerted that there were paparazzi there, but Torchwood and hospital security were keeping them back. There was nothing they could do about them taking pictures, though, and Rose suggested the three of them should just pose and smile for a second before they got in the car. They could keep Eleanor’s face mostly covered, and interest would surely die down eventually. It grated, but he knew she was probably right. At least, he hoped she was. 

A few steps inside the door, Rose got out of the wheelchair. She walked the rest of the way beside Ian while he cradled Eleanor, through the sliding glass doors and into the flashbulbs and shouts. Eleanor didn’t stir from the noise, and he and Rose both smiled for the cameras, waving. Rose was waving with her left hand, he noticed, making her ring more visible, and before he had time to process it, the paps were shouting questions about it. Rose just looked up at him, smiling, and he smiled back, bending down to kiss her. Then they waved one more time and got into the car. 

Ian and Rose both fussed over buckling Eleanor into her carseat, wanting to make sure it was right, and it took a minute before they were both satisfied. Once they were, they told Henry to take them home, and off they went. 

Eleanor was a quiet passenger, sleeping the whole way home with her head slumped over to the side. It fretted Ian, and although he knew she wasn’t uncomfortable or hurting herself in any way, he was unable to stop himself from rolling a burp cloth and using it to prop up her cheek so her neck wouldn’t be stretched. 

“You told me that didn’t hurt her,” Rose said with her tongue in her smile. 

“It doesn’t. I’m just supporting her neck, is all.” 

She gave him a knowing look, then slipped her hand into his, resting them at the foot of Eleanor’s seat. 

A tense ten-minute car ride later, after Ian had successfully managed to keep from snapping at Henry for multiple imaginary offenses while the man was driving perfectly sensibly, Ian unlocked the front door of his house and held it open for Rose to carry the baby in. When he shut the door behind them, giving Henry a wave, he came to stand in front of Rose, bending over Eleanor’s sweet head and planting a kiss there. 

“Welcome home, _gioia_ ,” he murmured, then kissed the baby’s head again and raised his head to catch Rose’s lips. “Welcome home, sweetheart.”

“I’m glad to be home,” she told him, smiling, and Ian’s heart thudded when he realized that she did, indeed, view this as home. 

“You want to put her down?” Ian suggested. “You could take a nap while the house is quiet.” 

“I don’t know where I’d put her,” Rose answered, and while there was no censure in her tone, he still felt terrible. 

“You could let her sleep in the bed beside you, that would be fine. Or Fergus brought my bassinet, and I’m sure it’s serviceable after he and Auntie both worked on it. They wouldn’t let her sleep in something that wasn’t sturdy.”

She nodded, looking weary. “Yeah, let’s find the bassinet and put it beside the bed… I’ll take a nap while she sleeps.”

_And I’ll build her room,_ Ian thought. 

They walked up the staircase and down the corridor towards their room, both of them turning their heads idly to look in Eleanor’s nursery, and both of them stopping in their tracks. 

“Ian,” Rose breathed. “When did you --”

“I didn’t do this,” he answered, looking around the completed nursery with his eyes wide and jaw slack. Everything had been assembled and put in place, the curtains had been hung, the cot had been made, and the walls decorated. A very familiar frame hung on the wall between two white shelves, and Ian couldn’t help but step over to it, tears gathering when he saw what was inside. He hadn’t seen his baby blanket in forty years, yet here it was now, hanging on his daughter’s wall. He spotted something in the cot and stepped over, pulling out a handwritten note. 

_Eleanor,_  
_We love you so much. Welcome to the world, little one._  
_Love,_  
_Papa and Uncle Graham_

Ian felt his eyes fill with tears looking down at the little sheet of paper, and he thought his heart may burst. The fact that this little girl was so loved already… He sniffed and muttered to himself, “She’s not calling him Uncle Graham.”

“What does it say?” Rose asked in a wavery voice. He didn’t answer - couldn’t, really. So he just stepped over to her, holding out the note, then put his arm around her while she read it. She sniffed a moment later, and he bent down to kiss the top of her hair. They stood silently together, Ian just holding the women in his life while the baby slept and Rose snuffled. At length, Rose said against his chest, “Do you remember when I told you I wanted Eleanor’s space to be created by the people who love her?”

“Yeah?”

“I thought that meant just me and you, and my mum. I never dreamed Eleanor would have a real family.”

She started to cry in earnest and Ian led her from the nursery into their bedroom - spotting the newly pink bassinet at the foot of their bed. Wanting this moment for himself, however selfishly, he eased Eleanor from her mother’s arms, kissed her gently, and laid her down in the bassinet he’d slept in forty-six years ago. Tears welled in his eyes as he looked down on her, unable to believe she was actually, finally here, unable to believe she was _his_ , unable to believe his incredible fortune. 

Rose had stopped crying and he led her to the bed, pulling off her shoes and helping her get comfortable. She reached for him and he had no intention of denying her, so he toed his own shoes off and crawled on the bed beside her, pulling her into his arms. Her belly was smaller now that Eleanor wasn’t in it, softer, and it enabled him to hold her closer - which he did. She was asleep almost at once, and he smiled to himself, pleased that she was so comfortable, so at home, that she had no trouble drifting off. 

It was the last thing he remembered thinking until Eleanor cried from the foot of the bed and woke them up. Rose sighed and started to get up and he stopped her. “Don’t, sweetheart. I’ll bring her to you and you can nurse while you sleep.” It was a mark to how exhausted Rose was that she did just that, unbuttoning her blouse without getting up. Ian brought Eleanor over and Rose got her latched, then settled back down with her eyes closed. Ian thought she was asleep, but she spoke. 

“I promise I’ll get the hang of this soon and won’t be so tired all the time.”

Ian chuckled. “You’re doing fine. And you’ll get it down to a fine art before long, but you’ll still be tired. All new parents are. But I’m here, sweetheart.”

She smiled tiredly. “Thank you.”

He leaned across and kissed her forehead. “You’re welcome.” 

Rose was asleep when Eleanor was through feeding, so Ian adjusted her top then scooped up the baby and took her into the nursery to change her. Eleanor watched him carefully, seeming to be assessing him, and he couldn’t help but smile at her. Out of the window, he saw Fergus’ car pull into the driveway, so he swaddled the baby into one of her pink blankets and carried her down the stairs carefully. 

Fergus and Auntie were putting bags of groceries away when Ian entered the kitchen and got their attention. 

“I thought you were having dinner with Pete and Jackie?”

“We were,” Auntie explained, going to the sink to wash her hands, “but we elected to go to lunch instead so we could be here this evening when you came home with the little one.” She dried her hands on a towel and came over to Ian, her arms extended. “Give her to her Gran.”

Ian transferred the baby over to Auntie, then asked Fergus. “What are you doing?”

“Making mince and tatties for you,” he explained in a matter-of-fact voice.

“I never knew you cooked.”

Fergus turned around and looked at him incredulously. “She’s my mam, too, you know.”

“Well yes, numpty, of course I know that, but --”

“It’s what I’ve always made for you when you needed comfort food,” Auntie interjected. “And I thought a taste of home may be welcome. I’m also going to make some casseroles tonight and tomorrow, some meals for you to freeze and pull out after we’re gone.”

“Thank you, Auntie.”

She patted his cheek. “You’re welcome. Now go shower while your girls are sleeping.”

“But --”

“And shave while you’re in there.”

“Rose loves my face like this, Auntie.”

Auntie pursed her lips. “I’m forced to disagree with Rose. But she’s the one you have to keep happy, I suppose.”

“Thank you.”

“And you’ll make her happy by not looking like you’ve slept in your clothes for two days.”

“I _have_ slept in my clothes for two days.”

“All the more reason you should go shower.” Ian started to protest, but his Auntie headed him off. “Eleanor is fine. I’m not going to let anything happen to my only grandbaby, and if I need you, I’ll send Graham to get you. Now _go_.”

She nodded her head towards the door and all he could do was sigh and nod. “Yes, ma’am.” He kissed her cheek, kissed the top of his daughter’s head, then turned and trudged upstairs to bathe. 

Rose was still asleep, snoring lightly, and he smiled a little while he tiptoed around to gather clean clothes. As quietly as he could, hoping not to wake Rose, he went into the ensuite and started the water, stripping off his clothes and stepping into the spray. 

Ian wasn’t usually one to waste time in the shower, typically doing what needed to be done and getting out in a matter of minutes. Today, he leaned his head against the shower wall and let the water run over his bare skin while his mind whirled. 

So much had happened in the last forty-eight hours. All of it was wonderful, he wouldn’t change one minute of the last two days, but so _very much_ had happened. It was hard not to feel just a little overwhelmed with all the changes in his life. Five weeks ago, he’d been a bachelor with no real hope of ever changing that status. Now he was engaged and a father. It was a lot to take in, to wrap his head around. Everything he’d ever wanted had been dropped into his lap. He was beside himself with joy, and, even now, he felt a little incredulous laughter bubbling out. 

But, he reminded himself, Rose was going through the same changes - plus she had hormones to contend with. And that wasn’t even touching on the facts that she was suddenly wealthy, suddenly had a father, and was still learning this world. Honestly, his sweetheart was the bravest woman he’d ever known. He was in awe of her. She was bound to get so tired, being so strong all the time. Ian knew that no matter how overwhelmed he felt at times, he had to be a rock for her. He had to be steady, a quiet place she could go and rest when she needed to. It was his job to be a safe harbor for his beloved. 

He was startled by a sound that very well could have been a baby’s cry. Despite listening hard for nearly a minute, he didn’t hear the sound come again. Nevertheless, it spurred him into action and he washed his body with quick and efficient movements, stepping out of the shower and drying himself rapidly. He pulled on his pants and denims, zipping them up but leaving them unbuttoned, and went back to the mirror before he pulled on his shirt. It only took a few strokes to brush his curls into waves, and just as he laid the brush down on the counter, there was a knock at the door. Expecting Rose, he went over and pulled the door open, smiling, but it wasn’t Rose, it was Fergus. 

“The fuck are you doing here?”

“You’re such a charmer,” Fergus snarked. “Mam sent me to get you. Said she was starting to worry you’d washed down the drain like a bubble.”

Ian snorted at the saying his Auntie had always used when he took too long. “I didn’t. Where’s Rose?” he asked, looking at the bed and finding it empty.

“Downstairs feeding the baby. I figured you’d appreciate it if I was on a different floor of the house.”

He snorted again, turning to go get his t-shirt. “Thanks.”

Fergus propped himself in the doorway, apparently deciding to stick around until Ian was done. “What’s that on your chest there?” 

Ian looked down at his chest, knowing exactly what his cousin was talking about, not willing to give in just yet. 

“Skin, few hairs, couple of nipples.”

“Wisearse. When did you do that?”

Ian tugged his shirt on and over the tattoo. “Just a couple weeks ago.”

“That’s mighty permanent, Ian.”

He turned to look his cousin straight in the eye and told him seriously, “There is no commitment I could make to Rose or this baby that could ever be permanent enough.”

“Fair enough. Best not let Mam see it, though.”

“You think I’m fucking stupid?” he scoffed. “I’d no intention of ever showing you, honestly. Rose was the only one I thought would ever see it.”

“Looked to be well-done,” Fergus said conversationally. 

“I paid to be inked by the best. Are you ready to go downstairs, or am I going to be yammering with you until I’m fucking eighty?”

“I’m quite sure you’ll be yammering when you’re eighty, but don’t let me stop you from getting to the mince and tatties.”

Ian laughed out loud. Mince and tatties were the furthest things from his mind. 

He and Fergus bounded down the back stairs, coming out into the kitchen in time to hear Auntie say, “Of course you can cook, dear. Anyone can cook. We’ll be here until Sunday morning. If it’s alright with you, I’ll spend a little time teaching you a couple of Ian’s favorite dishes. How does that sound?”

Rose’s smile lit up the room. “That would be brilliant. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”

Ian spoke, making his presence known. “You don’t have to do that. Either of you. I can cook for both -- all of us -- just fine.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Auntie informed him. “That’s why I’m here for the next couple of days. To help you two get settled in. You have other things to worry about.”

He approached a smiling Rose who was holding his daughter, his eyes firmly on them and convinced he’d never seen anything so beautiful. “It’s my pleasure,” he echoed, just before he bent to kiss Rose’s upturned mouth.


	80. Chapter 80

17 May 2012

Eleanor’s arrival had taken Ian by surprise. He’d been convinced that the baby would be slightly overdue, so the nappies he’d bought had all been purchased with a bigger baby in mind. The reality of just how many nappies a baby went through in a day had also surprised him. Therefore, he was finding himself running to the store fairly frequently to buy more.

On the way back from his latest trip, he let his mind wander about the visit to Torchwood they had scheduled for the next day. He couldn’t let on to Rose, but he was worried. Eleanor was, as far as he could tell, perfectly healthy and human, but Torchwood was trained to spot the unusual. What if they --

His phone rang and interrupted his musings. Seeing it was Pete, he pressed the green button on the dash.

"Pete! How the fuck are you?"

"Are you with Rose?"

He felt a stab of fear. "No, I’m on my way back to the house. Had to run out to get nappies. Why?"

"I’m sure it’s nothing. She just hasn’t answered her mobile, and that’s not like her."

Ian relaxed a little. Just a little. "She was taking a nap. I’m sure she just has the fucking ringer off so she can sleep."

"That’s probably it." But Ian heard unease in Pete’s voice, too. "Jacks was trying to call Rose to invite you two over for dinner tonight. She hasn’t seen the baby for two days and wants to introduce Eleanor to her home away from home."

Ian snorted. “I’m afraid Jackie is going to be disappointed at how little her magnificent nursery gets fucking used.”

"I share the same concern,” Pete said with a chuckle. “But either way, dinner tonight at ours?"

"Fine by me. Rose might put up a little fuss but I’ll talk her into it. It’ll be good for her to get out - she hasn’t left the house since we got home from the hospital."

"Alright, then. Half six?"

"Sounds good."

The two men rang off and Ian drove just a bit faster. Since they’d brought Eleanor home, Rose had become a light sleeper, just the vibrations of the phone against the bedside table should have woken her. He was sure that there was some easy explanation for why she hadn’t answered her mother, but all the same he sped up and dialed her mobile - even though he was only five minutes away. The phone rang through to voicemail and Ian started to panic a little, clenching the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip.

Four minutes later he pulled up to his house, sprang from the SUV, and ran to the door. He burst inside and barely refrained from shouting her name, realizing Eleanor might still be asleep. A quick glance around the lounge showed that Rose wasn’t there, nor was the baby in her swing, her bouncy seat, or on her tummy mat. In the quiet, he heard a sound quite like a sob coming from upstairs. 

He dashed up the stairs and found Rose in their bedroom. She sat on the side of the bed cradling Eleanor in her arms, weeping. In an instant Ian was across the room, coming to a stop on his knees in front of her, one hand on her cheek and the other on Eleanor’s head.

"Rose, sweetheart, what’s the matter?"

"I can’t do this," she cried without looking up, tears falling onto the swaddled baby. "I’m not meant to do this. There’s been some big cosmic mistake or something. Some mix-up. I’m not meant to do this."

"Give me the baby, sweetheart," he said gently, getting to his feet and pulling Eleanor from her arms tenderly. The baby stirred but didn’t wake. "I’m going to put her in her room," he told Rose in a quiet voice, "and then I’m coming back to you. Alright?" Rose nodded without looking up, and he took the baby down the hall to the nursery. He checked her quickly for injury or illness, but she seemed perfectly well other than a damp nappy. That could wait, though. Rose needed him now. 

As he’d said he would, he put Eleanor into the cot and pressed the button to start her mobile. Then he hurried back to the bedroom.

Rose had curled onto the bed, still in her pyjamas and dressing gown, her back to him. Soft, muffled sounds of her crying filled the room, and his heart ached to see her like that. He was fairly certain that her only problems were sleep deprivation and hormones - both of which would resolve themselves with time - but in the meantime, she needed comfort. 

Ian toed his shoes off and went to the bed, lying down behind her and curling his body around hers, sliding one arm under her neck and lacing the fingers of his other hand with hers. 

"Tell me what’s wrong, sweetheart," he murmured.

She didn’t answer for a while, just sniffled. Her body shook with tears but he waited her out, knowing she’d tell him when she gathered enough strength. After what seemed like forever, she spoke.

"I don’t know if I can do this or not."

"Do what?"

"Be a mum. I mean, I’ve done all kinds of things. Mad, crazy, unbelievable things. I’ve been chased by a werewolf. Helped blow up Downing Street. Dangled from a barrage balloon during a German air raid."

Ian did his best not to react, although he resolved to ask just what the fuck she meant about blowing up Downing Street sometime later.

"And all of those things," Rose went on, "were terrifying. I was scared to death every time. But none of them - nothing I ever faced - scared me like I’m scared now. What if I hurt her? What if I do everything wrong? What if I’m a rubbish mum?"

He squeezed her hand while she cried for a minute, letting her take whatever comfort she needed from being held. When her tears seemed to subside a bit, he spoke quietly. "You’re doing everything exactly right, Rose. You’re a wonderful mum. I know you’re scared and I know you think you’re not, but you are."

“Not just that,” she cried. “What if she’s alien? I mean, what if there’s a bunch of stuff we don’t know about her that’s Time Lord and not human? I’m not equipped to raise a baby like that all on my own!”

She couldn’t have wounded him more if she’d actually stabbed him, and if he’d been standing, he’d have been staggering. He took a second to remind himself that she was hormonal and anxious and likely didn’t mean what she said, doing his best to keep the hurt out of his voice when he spoke. “You’re not alone, sweetheart. I’m here. And I’m going to help raise this little girl whether she’s got two hearts, two heads, or is a completely ordinary human.”

Unexpectedly, she flipped over until she was facing him, burying her face in his chest. After a half-second of surprise, he folded his arms around her, pulling her just a little closer and kissing the top of her head. She sobbed and the sound was like another knife to the gut, but he didn’t react. He just stroked her back, shushing her gently, and let her cry. Hormones, he reminded himself. And massive life changes. 

After a few minutes, she pulled back from him a little and he got a look at her for the first time. Her eyes were puffy and red, as was her nose, and her cheeks were wet. "Oh, Ian," she snuffled. "Your shirt."

"It’ll dry, sweetheart. Are you alright?" he asked, wiping the moisture away from her cheeks.

She nodded even as she sniffled. "I think so. It’s just… everything is different. Everything about my life now is so, so different."

"Good different or bad different?"

She gave him a look he didn’t quite understand, but it cleared quickly. "Mostly good. I wouldn’t change anything that’s happened to bring me to this point, even if I’m unworthy of what I have now."

He cupped her cheek. "You’re not unworthy, sweetheart. You deserve every good thing life can give you."

Rose shook her head. "I don’t deserve anything. I’m not good enough for Eleanor, I’m certainly not good enough for you.”

“You’re entirely _too good_ for me, Rose. And I’m not leaving you. You won’t be alone, no matter what we find tomorrow. Eleanor is my daughter. I wouldn’t give her up for anything.”

“Not even --”

“Not _anything_ ,” he reassured her, stroking her face. “Nothing at all.”

She snuffled and buried her face in his chest. Ian just stroked her hair and murmured soothing nonsense.

Rose’s breathing was just evening out and Ian was almost sure she was asleep when the baby began to cry from down the hall and they broke apart, looking at each other with wide eyes. Ian kissed her quickly before rolling away.

"I’ll get her," he volunteered.

The mobile had stopped and Eleanor cried loudly, her tiny fists waving in the air. Ian crossed the nursery in three strides and scooped her up, this precious baby, laying a soft kiss on her downy head. She quieted almost at once while he swayed her and hummed, looking down at her. The baby gazed back up at him, tranquil, and he thanked every star in the sky for her - no matter what her anatomy would prove to be.

“That’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” came Rose’s voice from the door, and Ian turned to look at her. “You holding her like that. It makes my heart swell.”

“You alright, sweetheart?”

She nodded a little. “I’m alright. Just had a moment there. I’m sorry for implying you would leave us. I know you won’t, even if I am still somewhat afraid of that.”

“No need to be sorry _or_ afraid. It’s simply never going to happen.”

Rose smiled a little, then stepped into the room, putting her hands on his biceps and leaning down to kiss Eleanor’s head. “Mummy loves you, baby girl.” 

“It’s going to be alright, Rose. I know you’re doubtful, but I need you to just trust me. It’s going to be alright.”

“If there’s anyone at all in this world I trust, it’s you.”

He leaned over and kissed her lightly. “Good. Now go get dressed. We’re going to your mum and dad’s for dinner.”

Rose sighed heavily. “Ian…”

“It’ll be fine, sweetheart. We’ll have a lovely time. Just go get dressed.”

She gave him a sour look then shook her head and stood on tiptoe, turning her face up to his. He kissed her gently, letting his lips slide against hers, not deepening it. When they broke the kiss, he dropped a tiny butterfly kiss to her nose, making her scrunch her face on a smile. 

“You get dressed, I’m going to change Little Face’s nappy and get her dressed. We’ll leave whenever you’re ready.”

“Are you sure it’s not too soon to take her out somewhere?”

“Absolutely sure. Consider it a practice run for tomorrow. Now shoo. Go.”

She kissed him one more time, then turned and left the room. Ian watched her go, thinking for the millionth time that she was absolutely the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, even in her dressing gown, then Eleanor cooed and caught his attention. 

“I’m sorry, Little Face. I was watching your mummy. You’re likely to see me staring after her a lot, might as well get used to it.” Eleanor just blinked and Ian chuckled. “C’mon, sweet baby. Let’s get you a clean nappy.”

~*~O~*~

Ian and Rose let themselves into the mansion, just as they always had, except Rose was carrying the baby and Ian had the nappy bag slung over his shoulder. Frankly, he was more than a little surprised that Jackie hadn’t come bustling out to the SUV when he pulled into the circle drive. He was just about to comment on Jackie’s absence when Pete rounded the corner.

“Oh, good. You’re early. Jacks is still putting on her makeup, so that gives me a little time with Eleanor.”

Rose and Ian exchanged a glance while Pete darted forward, already reaching for the baby. 

“I washed my hands just a minute ago, don’t worry. I’m not going to make this little girl sick.”

“She just ate right before we left the house, so she should be content for a while,” Rose explained while she handed over the baby. 

“We’ll be fine, won’t we, little one? Papa is going to take wonderful care of his peanut.”

Ian looked over at Rose, ready to laugh, but the laugh faded into a smile when he saw Rose’s lip quivering and her eyes watering while she looked at her dad. Silently, he went to her and put his arms around her, holding her close, kissing the top of her head. 

“Come on in,” Pete encouraged, looking up from the baby. “We’ll wait in the lounge for your mother to finish putting on her face.” They started walking towards the lounge and Pete called over his shoulder, “Although I’m tempted to run upstairs with the baby and tease her that the price of beauty is me holding the baby.” 

Rose tittered a little at that and Ian was relieved. He squeezed her around the waist, cherishing the smile she turned up towards him, then they went into the lounge. 

Pete was always an exemplary host, but tonight he flopped down into his chair without waiting for his guests to have a seat. He never took his eyes off of Eleanor, and Ian couldn’t help but chuckle. “Careful, Pete,” he warned as he settled down onto the couch with Rose. “You’re starting to look like a bonafide fucking grandfather. Keep that up and you’ll be wearing your trousers up around your ribcage, standing in the front garden yelling at whippersnappers to get off your fucking lawn.”

“Fuck off, Docherty,” Pete said good-naturedly without looking up from his granddaughter. Ian snorted and raised his arm for Rose to cuddle up to him - which she did without hesitation. Once she was settled he kissed the top of her hair, smiling and acquiescing when she turned her face up for a kiss. 

“How’s parenthood?”

“Brand new,” Ian told him. “She’s only a fucking week old. We’re barely getting settled in!”

“Ask us again in a couple of weeks,” Rose laughed and Ian squeezed her. 

“Have you seen anything… unusual?” Pete asked cautiously.

Rose’s answer of ‘No, not really,’ stepped all over Ian’s answer of ‘Her umbilicus.’ Pete and Rose looked up at him expectantly and he sighed internally. “Her belly button is healing a bit fast. The cord doesn’t typically drop off until day eight or nine.”

“Hers fell off three days ago,” Rose said. 

“That’s my point. It healed quickly. Which is fine,” she hastened to reassure Rose. “Could just be a fluke. But it’s something we should probably mention. You know, tomorrow.”

The next day’s appointment was a sore subject for both of them, but he expected it was an unavoidable topic tonight. It might even be the reason for Pete’s invitation.

“Anything else?”

Ian glared at Pete. “Are you her grandfather or the director of Torchwood right now?”

“Her grandfather, I’m always her grandfather. But I’m curious, too.”

Rose exchanged a meaningful look with him and he didn’t miss the significance. _Be nice._

“There’s nothing else to report,” he said honestly, a little defeated. 

“Good.” Pete looked back down at the sleeping baby and smiled. “I think we all just want her to be a healthy little girl.”

“Amen to that,” Rose muttered, then nuzzled deeper into his shoulder. 

“Pete!” came Jackie’s voice from the foyer. “Pete, where are you? Rose and Ian will be here any minute!”

Pete sighed. “Guess that’s it for us, peanut,” he said sadly to the baby. “Your Nan is going to take you away.”

Rose bit back a giggle and Ian tried not to smile. At that moment, Jackie poked her head around the corner and her eyes widened when she spied Pete holding Eleanor. 

“Hello, dear,” Pete tried. 

“ _'Hello, dear?'_ Is that all you have to say? When were you going to tell me my grandbaby was here?”

“Good to see you, too, Mum,” Rose snarked. 

Jackie seemed to notice she was there for the first time and swept over to her daughter. “Of course, Rose, I’m happy to see you.” Rose and Jackie shared a kiss on the cheek, and Jackie patted Ian’s head. “And you, too, Ian, of course. But this is a momentous occasion! Eleanor’s never been to Papa and Nan’s house before! I wanted to show her around!”

“There will be plenty of time after dinner, Jacks,” Pete soothed her. “Denise will be announcing dinner any minute now.”

“Oh, shut up and hand me my grandbaby,” she groused. Pete did as requested, and Ian didn’t miss sparkling eyes and a quick kiss between them as they made the exchange. The sight didn’t jar him nearly as much as it used to, he just snuggled Rose a little closer. 

Jackie sat down beside Pete, who threw his arm around her and watched the baby, and Eleanor’s Nan talked to her for a minute. Ian traced his fingers up and down Rose’s arm, content with the domesticity of the moment. It was peaceful, calm. It felt comfortable. He didn’t feel the need to break the quiet. 

The quiet was broken, though, when Jackie looked up from the baby to him and Rose, smiling. “So when are you two getting hitched?”

“Mum!”

“What? It’s a perfectly fair question. You’re engaged now, people are going to want to know, and I need to know how much time we have to plan.”

“We haven’t --”

“I’m assuming you’ll want pink, Rose? Although I suppose we’ll need to take the time of year into account as well. Of course, you can have whatever you want, dear…”

“Thanks for that,” Rose muttered. 

“We’ll hold the wedding and reception here, of course, there’s plenty of room. If we do it in warm weather we can host, what, Pete, three hundred? Four hundred?”

“Something like that,” he agreed while Ian’s mind reeled.

“Of course, if we have it in cold weather, we’ll have to cut the guest list.”

“What guest list?” Rose demanded. “Mum, we’ve been engaged for one week and in that time we’ve been adjusting to life with a newborn baby. We haven’t given any thought to a wedding.”

“Well, you’d better!” Jackie insisted. “It’s the biggest day of your life!”

“I think having this little girl and becoming engaged to her father might just be the biggest day of my life,” Rose scoffed, but quietly. Ian gave her a grin. 

“Oh, it’s going to be so much to do! Where on earth should we start?”

“Just how big are you planning, Mum? And did you think to consult us?”

“I think I’ll hire a wedding planner,” Jackie resolved to herself, independent of anyone’s input. “Someone to just handle everything.”

“Mum,” Rose protested tiredly. 

Pete intervened. “Don’t you think you should at least _ask_ Ian and Rose what they want, love? They may not want you to hire a planner.”

Jackie seemed unperturbed. “It’ll make life much simpler, Pete. Everyone will be glad I did it.”

Rose sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, leaning against Ian’s chest and he heard her groan in frustration. “You alright, sweetheart?” he asked quietly, so that only she could hear. 

“I’m fine,” she said without looking up. “Just don’t like being railroaded.”

Before he could say anything else, she raised her head. “Alright, Mum, you can research planners, start looking to see who we should hire. But you’re not running this show, okay? Ian and I are. I’m the bride, he’s the groom.”

His heart fluttered at her last sentence and once again, he marveled at his fortune. She was actually going to marry him!

A dark haired woman poked her head around the corner and said, “Mr. Tyler? Mrs. Tyler? Dinner is ready.”

“Thank you, Denise.”

Rose went to take the baby back from her mother, pressing a kiss to Eleanor’s little head when she did, and Ian put his arm around her, leading her to the dining room behind Pete and Jackie.


	81. Chapter 81

18 May, 2012

Ian and Rose’s hands were wrapped around each other as always, but that did little to ease the tension or the silence on the drive to Torchwood. Both were lost in their own thoughts, and Ian’s were split between the baby in the seat beside him and an alien in a blue box - and the impact each would have on the other from a universe away. He was certain that he was headed for a reminder that Eleanor was not completely his, which was unwelcome but unavoidable. He’d never been so grateful for Henry’s diligence than during that short drive.

Getting into the building was a little more of a hassle than they’d had when Rose was pregnant. They were scanned a bit more extensively and some sensor or another tripped, prompting the young man to call to his superior, “Sir! They’ve got three small containers of some sort of biological liquid!”

Ian opened his mouth to snark at the little twit but Rose beat him to it. “It’s breastmilk, you moron.” It was a testament to the strength of her anxiety that she was being rude, and Ian longed to comfort her.

“Breastmilk?” the young man asked questioningly, as if uncertain what it was.

Rose rolled her eyes and Ian looked up to see Pete striding towards them. “Honestly, Pete, your security team doesn’t know how babies are fucking fed?”

Pete ignored him. “It’s alright, Michael. I’ll vouch for them.”

The twit, Michael, held up a wand of some sort. “I need to scan the baby.”

“If you poke my daughter with that thing, I’ll shove it up your nose,” Rose snarled. 

Ian agreed. “I won’t be aiming for the nose.”

Pete raised his hands in a placating gesture. “There’s no need to scan my grandaughter. She’s only a week old, and I trust my daughter and best friend. Thank you, Michael.”

The little twit looked terribly disappointed that he wasn’t going to get to prod a newborn and Ian glared at him, even while he pushed the pram away, following Pete. Rose looped her hand into his elbow as they walked and when they got to the lifts, he turned and kissed her forehead reassuringly. 

“I’m sorry about that,” Pete said when the lift doors closed and they started going up. “Did they bother you?”

“No, Dad, not really. You got there just in time. Thank you.”

“Yes, thank you, Pete.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Where are we going?” Rose asked, trying to sound pleasant. “Medical, I assume?”

“Yes. You’ve been there before, of course.”

“Don’t remind me,” Ian growled, and Rose stroked his arm, soothing him. 

“This isn’t going to be like that. I’m doing my damndest to turn this place into something to be proud of, and if that means weeding out every small, prejudiced mind, I have no qualms doing so.” 

“I’m proud of you, Dad,” Rose said, putting her arms around Pete, and Ian smiled a little at the way his best friend’s eyes warmed when his arms went around his daughter. 

They pulled apart when the lift doors opened to the same floor Ian and Rose had come to for her exam at twenty-six weeks, but he was feeling much less confident than he had then. He’d been relatively convinced, months ago, that he knew everything there was to know about her pregnancy. That certainty should have extended to today, now that Eleanor had been born, but it didn’t. Things felt so much more fragile now that she was here, an actual baby and no longer just an idea or a nudge in Rose’s belly. He could protect her somewhat while she was in the womb, but now she was out in the big, wide world, and there was only so much he could do. He felt vulnerable and didn’t like it one bit.

Ian followed Pete down the corridor, pushing Eleanor in the pram until they got to a large office. Pete went in, followed by Rose, and Ian stepped in just behind them. Dr. Evans was getting to her feet behind the desk and Dr. Garrison was already stepping forward to shake his and Rose’s hands. They made tense small talk while Ian parked the pram and Rose pulled Eleanor out, cuddling her close, then they all had a seat. 

Dr. Garrison leaned forward earnestly. “The first thing I want you to know today, Rose - and Dr. Docherty - is that Eleanor is not going to be hurt by anything we do. I can’t promise she won’t cry from time to time - as newborns do - but honestly, if she’s been recently fed, I expect she’ll sleep through most of it.”

“Will she be drugged?” Rose asked, and the waver in her voice made Ian tighten his arm around her. 

“No,” said Dr. Evans.

“Not at all,” Dr. Garrison assured them with a smile. “We’re doing a couple of MRIs and CT scans, x-rays, a standard physical exam to count fingers and toes, a couple of ultrasounds and specialized scans, and we’d like to swab her cheek again. That will be the most invasive thing we do.”

Rose nodded, and Ian did, too. That didn’t sound so bad, but it didn’t entirely allay his fears, either. 

Dr. Garrison leaned farther forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “She will not be hurt. I’ve been taking care of infants and children for nearly a decade, and my instinct is to protect children, not hurt them. Eleanor is the first alien/human hybrid I’ve ever even _heard_ of, and we have much to learn from her. This won’t be the last time we ask you for testing. But I swear to you: _she will not be hurt._ I simply won’t allow it.”

Rose was crying silently and Ian did his best to soothe her while fighting his own tears. He believed Garrison, believed that if he _had_ to hand his daughter over to anyone for this kind of testing, Garrison was the man to do it. But his instinct was to put Eleanor back into the pram, grab Rose by the hand, and get them all the hell out of there, never looking back. 

“You two know I love Eleanor,” Pete spoke up, and both Ian and Rose turned to him. “I wouldn’t be letting this happen if I weren’t sure it would all be okay and she’ll be safe. I’m pulling rank and staying with her as much as they’ll let me, and I personally guarantee that if I see something happening I think you two wouldn’t approve of, I’m calling a halt to it. And I’ll step out and check in with you two as often as I can. You can trust me on this.”

Ian and Rose both nodded, neither even cracking a smile at his little joke, and Rose sniffled when she looked down at Eleanor. 

“We should be done in a couple of hours,” Dr. Evans supplied. “Not long at all.”

“It’ll be an eternity for us,” Rose said, still looking at Eleanor. 

The air in the room changed and Dr. Evans and Dr. Garrison got to their feet, Dr. Garrison stepping towards Rose with his hands outstretched for the baby. Rose kissed Eleanor, turned slightly towards Ian so he could kiss the baby, then handed her over and crumpled into tears. Ian wrapped her up in his arms, letting her sob on his shoulder, still fighting back tears himself. 

“You’re welcome to stay here, or there’s a waiting area with a telly just a little ways down the corridor…”

“I’m taking them to the Trintel room to wait,” Pete said abruptly, and Ian wished they would just fucking _leave_ already and stop drawing it out. 

He got his wish when Dr. Garrison nodded then started out the door with the baby. Rose was losing the battle to control her sobs for a minute, and he did his best to calm her. He was startled when Pete put his hand on her back, squatting down beside her chair. His surprise grew when Rose let go of him and hugged her father tight. 

“I’m scared, Daddy.”

Pete’s face was as soft as Ian had ever seen it. “She’s safe, Rose, I swear. And she’s going to stay that way.”

Ian stroked his fiancee’s back, feeling wretched that he couldn’t do more for her. After a time, Pete kissed the side of Rose’s head. “I’m going to go check on her in just a minute, yeah? But first, I’m going to take the two of you to another room to wait. You’ll be more comfortable there.” Rose nodded and Pete kissed her head again. “C’mon, love. Show all these people what Tylers are made of.”

Ian was thrilled to see this moment between Rose and Pete, but he was also incredibly relieved when they got to their feet and Rose threw her arms around him again. 

“I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you, handsome.”

He grinned at the little nickname she’d given him, then kissed her hair and the two of them followed Pete with the empty pram. 

The room Pete took them to looked like a family consultation room, making Ian very uncomfortable. It was just different enough that he was able to push his discomfort aside and focus on Rose, who had pulled herself together. Pete showed them the wall-mounted telly and explained where the vending machines were, then said he’d be back soon, he was going to check on Eleanor. Rose teared up just a bit when her dad left, but settled quickly. Before long, they were sitting side by side on the ridiculously tiny sofa, Rose cuddled up to Ian as best she could. 

Time crawled by until his mobile went off. 

~Fergus: _how are you lot settling in?_  
~Ian: _alright. same as last time you checked in. we're all tired._  
~Fergus: _my wee niece alright?_

He couldn’t possibly tell Fergus where they were and what they were doing.

~Ian: _she's fine. sleeping right now_  
~Fergus: _the boys at work had a cake for me when I got back_  
~Ian: _for what?_  
~Fergus: _for becoming an uncle. reckon they figure I'll never have my own._

Ian didn't know what to say. He’d had no indication that Fergus even _wanted_ to settle down and have a family, but, then, if he was being fair, there had been no indications that _he_ had wanted such a thing, either. And he hadn’t, not really, not until Rose came along. Now it was all he wanted. Had seeing Ian settling down triggered Fergus to want the same?

Speaking of settling down… “What kind of wedding do you want?”

“One with you as the groom.”

He couldn’t help but grin at her cheek. “Ha, ha. Wisearse. I’m serious.”

She shrugged against him. “I don’t know. Just the traditional wedding, I guess. Mum will have kittens if we don’t let her help, so eloping is out of the question.”

“Well, I’d want my family there, too,” he pointed out. 

“See? Traditional wedding it is. Why? What do _you_ want?”

“I want to end the day with you and me wearing rings and your surname being the same as mine. That’s all I really care about.”

She turned to him, smiling, and kissed him. “I want that, too. When?”

Ian shrugged. “I don’t know. A year or so.”

“A year!?” Rose gasped and Ian blinked, surprised. “Why so long?”

“To give you time to be sure.”

“Sure of what?” 

“Sure of me. Sure you want to marry me.”

Rose laughed, her voice tinkling merrily. “You’re daft. I’d marry you tomorrow, Ian Docherty, if I could fit a dress.”

There was more to talk about here, this was a topic that deserved more consideration than it was currently getting, but he wasn’t sure that now was the best time to talk about it. So he kept quiet. 

“We need to come up with an answer soon. People will be asking. Dad mentioned that his PR guy for Vitex had suggested we do an interview.”

“An interview for what?” Ian demanded. He knew Pete’s PR man, Pierce, and the guy was a prick. Ian typically avoided him. But he also knew that Pierce was damned good at his job, too, and his mastery of public relations had been invaluable to Pete, both professionally and privately. If he was suggesting an interview…

“To introduce ourselves as a couple, and introduce Eleanor. To announce our engagement. To let the public get to know me a bit. To capitalize on your Sully.”

All of those were sound, logical reasons, but he didn’t have to like it. “Is this something you want to do?”

Rose shrugged. “I mean, not today. We don’t have to for a while if we don’t want. But I think we should do it eventually, probably sooner rather than later. If not both of us, then just me.”

That idea was simultaneously more and less appealing than the other, but he didn’t get time to dwell on it before Pete strode in, followed by Dr. Evans. He and Rose both shot to their feet. 

“She’s doing fine,” Pete assured them.

Ian relaxed a little. “Yeah?”

“Perfect little trooper. She’s starting to squirm a little, so I came to get a bottle.”

Rose reached for the bottle and gave it to Pete, getting to her feet. “You feed her, alright, Dad? She’ll eat better if she’s comfortable with the person holding her.”

“Absolutely. She’s fine, Rose. I swear.”

“I trust you.”

Dr. Evans smiled. “If you don’t mind, Ian, I’d like to swab your cheek.”

He was completely taken aback and blinked a couple of times. “ _My_ cheek?”

“Just testing a theory.” 

Exchanging a glance with Rose, he opened his mouth obediently for the swab. Dr. Evans didn’t say anything while gathering the sample, just thanked him when she was done and left. Ian looked over at Rose again, relieved that her face seemed just as confused as his felt.

Pete started towards the door and looked back just before he left. “It shouldn’t be too much longer. She’s being an angel. Hasn’t cried at all.” Ian and Rose nodded, Pete disappeared, and once he was gone, Rose cuddled against him, her hand on his chest while she stared into space. 

“That was fucking odd,” he observed. 

“It was.”

“What do you think they want my DNA for?”

“I have no idea, honestly. Probably just wanted to rule you out.”

Ian didn’t respond to that, he was busy trying desperately not to be hurt.

The next forty-five minutes seemed to pass in an odd, mixed state of “in a blink” and “suspended animation”. Time was crawling, but before he knew it, the door to the room opened and Pete came in holding the baby, followed by Drs. Garrison and Evans. He and Rose were on their feet in an instant, both practically diving for Eleanor. Rose got to her first and Ian did his best to look her over covertly. She was sleeping peacefully, her thumb in her mouth, and seemed to be perfectly fine. He heaved a sigh of relief and murmured thanksgivings. 

“How is she?” Rose demanded. 

“Fantastic. Brilliant. A perfectly healthy baby girl.”

“But how _is_ she?” Ian persisted. 

“Why don’t we all sit down?” Dr. Evans offered, and then followed her own suggestion. Ian helped Rose get situated, then sat down beside her, his arm around her shoulders, bending to kiss Eleanor’s sleeping head. He looked up and around the room expectantly. 

“Well? Spit it the fuck out. What’s different about Eleanor?”

“Remarkably little,” Dr. Garrison said. “Her anatomy is virtually indistinguishable from a human’s, even after detailed internal examinations. Her bone density is a little higher than what we’d expect to see from a eight-day-old human and her body temperature is about half a degree lower, but nothing that would set off any alarms.”

“Well, what else?”

“The most significant differences were in her bloodwork and brain scans. There are areas of her brain lighting up that just don’t show activity in typical newborns - or in adults, for that matter. We’re not sure what that means just yet, but we’re sure it isn’t anything detrimental to her well-being or development.”

“What about her blood?” Rose asked. 

“Ah. Well, we’ve had nearly a week to work with that, and we’ve discovered quite a lot of interesting things.”

“For example?” Ian demanded, his patience wearing thin. 

“For example, we anticipate that Eleanor is going to heal more rapidly than other children. Her belly button has healed already, had you noticed?”

Dr. Garrison shot a look at Dr. Evans. “Rose, you’ve talked about regeneration. We’ll have to further analyze the data we’ve collected today and we’ll likely need more testing in a few months, but my educated guess is that Eleanor will be able to regenerate at the point of her death.”

He was stunned. With everything Ian knew, he’d known in his head that this was a possibility, but it had never really sunk in. His daughter wouldn’t age and die. She’d simply become another person. Unbelievable. He looked over at Rose and she seemed less blown away by the news, which he reckoned made sense. Still, he was in awe. 

“Will she develop normally?”

“I expect that this life, her first regeneration, will be almost entirely human. Of course, we’ll closely monitor her developmental milestones, but I doubt they’ll be all that much different - at least physically. When she regenerates, she may take on more Time Lord traits. Again, I have much more research and testing to do.”

“What about her allergies?” Rose asked. “Aspirin and ginger...”

“Gave her no reaction. Of course, she’s young and some allergies develop over a lifetime, but as of right now, the only allergy she seems to have is a very mild allergy to pineapple.”

“Pineapple!” Ian burst out, surprised. 

“Yes, but as I said, it’s a mild allergy. Likely to give her a slight case of hives that she may not even notice. Certainly not a life-or-death situation. And then there’s the matter of her DNA…”

He and Rose both sat up straighter. “What’s wrong with her DNA?”

“Nothing’s _wrong_ with it, really,” Dr. Garrison said. “She has three strands instead of two, which is clearly not of human origin, but like every other child, her DNA perfectly matches her mother’s,” he looked at Rose, then looked at Ian meaningfully. “And her father’s.”

He felt his eyes widen, and he pointed to himself. “Me? She matches me?”

“Perfectly, Dr. Docherty.”

“But,” Rose sputtered, “that’s not possible! Ian and I hadn’t even met when I got pregnant!”

For once, those words didn’t sting. Ian was entirely too gobsmacked. 

“I know. You’ve been consistent in your description of her biological father and it’s clear that he was an extraterrestrial. But any court in the world would find that Ian is her father based on these DNA results.”

“You’re fucking serious.”

“As a heart attack.”

Ian broke into a wide smile and huffed a laugh, squeezing Rose tight. “I’m her father,” he murmured into her hair. “I’m her _father_ , sweetheart.”

Rose looked up at him, emotions warring all over her face: joy and confusion, relief and bewilderment. He felt the same emotions and was looking at her through the same sheen of moisture he could see in her eyes. He kissed her, gently but urgently, and laughed with joy when they separated. Very gently, he pulled Eleanor into his own arms, cradling her close, looking at her through new eyes. Suddenly, the slight wave in her hair and her blue eyes looked just like his. Suddenly, her long, slender fingers looked familiar, and he stroked them for a moment before he examined his own hand, face full of wonder. 

“She’s mine,” he whispered, then nuzzled his daughter. “ _Sei mio figlia, piccola faccia. Questi dottori l'hanno appena detto. Sono tuo padre, e nessuno può portarlo via da noi. Ti amo tanto…_ ” He kissed her soft hair and looked up with wet eyes to find Rose wiping her cheeks. Even Pete looked emotional. 

“We’ll leave you alone,” Dr. Evans said, getting to her feet. “You’re free to go. We’d like to see her back, probably around three months --”

“And, of course,” Garrison interrupted, “I’ll need to see her next week in my office for a regular pediatric checkup.”

Ian just nodded, barely taking it all in. She was his, all his, really and truly his…

“Someone must have been looking out for you.”

That made Ian’s head snap up. 

“I’m sorry?”

“For the three of you,” Dr. Evans explained, “What are the odds? Rose comes here from an entirely different universe and falls in love with a man who matches her baby biologically? Someone must have seen this coming and been looking out for all of you. Congratulations.”

The two doctors left the room, and Ian looked over at Rose. She was staring at the door, a little pale and with wide eyes. 

“Sweetheart?”

She physically shook her head a little, then her whole face lit up when she smiled. “Sorry, was woolgathering.”

Ian strongly suspected that there was more to it than that, but he’d wait until they were alone to ask her about it. “Are you ready to go? I’m dying to get out of here.”

“If I don’t feed this baby, my boobs are going to explode. It’ll have to wait until that’s done.”

Ian chuckled, then kissed her and handed over the baby, in the best mood of his life.


	82. Chapter 82

24 May 2012

Ian was settled back against the head of his bed, shirtless, with Eleanor lying on his chest wearing only a nappy. The telly droned a bit, but he wasn’t paying much attention. One hand was rubbing the baby’s back, constantly worrying whether or not she was warm enough, and the other held his mobile up so he could see it. 

~Pete: _Jacks wants to have you lot for dinner tomorrow night_  
~Ian: _neither of us are interested in being served as dinner_  
~Pete: _who are you and what have you done with Ian?_

Ian chuckled, almost feeling sorry for his best friend. He’d been on a high since finding out Eleanor was biologically his and hadn’t come down. Didn’t particularly want to. Being giddy was making him a little silly.

~Ian: _I’m still me, only with less fucking sleep. what time?_  
~Pete: _6?_  
~Ian: _see you then_

Eleanor sighed, stirring a little, and he went perfectly still, watching his little miracle adjust herself on him. Her hand opened, flattening on his tattoo, then closed into a tiny fist again. Once she seemed to have settled in, he pulled the blanket overtop of her - just in case - and kissed the top of her head. 

The door to the loo opened and Rose came out, still drying her hair with a towel. He loved it when she let it dry naturally, in soft waves. He loved it when she blow dried it out straight, too. He just loved her so much it made him ache.

“All snuggled up, I see,” she smiled at him, and he couldn’t help but beam back at her. 

“The little lady has been napping for a while, she’ll be up soon.”

“Hopefully not too soon… we haven’t watched our show in two weeks.”

Ian chuckled. “We’ll get to see it tonight, I expect.”

Eleanor stirred again and Ian shushed her quietly. 

“Maybe not,” Rose observed dryly, then hung her towel over the door to dry. “You’re going to spoil her rotten, Ian.”

“It’s literally impossible to spoil a baby. It’s simply not possible to give them too much attention or affection. But I’m damn sure going to try.”

Rose giggled, coming to crawl onto the bed next to him. “You’re not going to rest until she’s completely, irrevocably a daddy’s girl, are you?”

“Now you’re catching on,” he praised, delicately raising his arm so she could cuddle next to him without disturbing the baby. Once she was settled, he kissed the top of her head. “You smell good.”

“I smell like your shampoo. Mine ran out, so I had to use yours.”

“So you smell like me. I like it.”

“You would,” she teased. “Jealous thing.”

He didn’t deny it. Instead, he changed the subject. “Your parents want us to come over tomorrow for dinner.”

“Oh?”

“I told them we’d go.”

She sighed. “I really wish you hadn’t.”

“The only places we’ve been in the two weeks since she's been born have been to your parents’ last week, then Torchwood, and to Garrison’s office today. It would do you good to get out of the house, sweetheart.”

“I’ve got a tenner says Mum wants to talk wedding planning. Again.”

The corner of his lip curled up to hear her using that phrase. “No bet. I’m sure you’re right.”

Rose sighed. “What are we going to tell them?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart. I want to give you time.”

“Time to be sure,” she said in a dry voice that indicated trouble for him. 

Nevertheless, he plowed on. “Yes.”

Rose sat up and looked at him with a sarcastic smile. “What if I told you I was a big girl who had been ready to marry you for a while?”

Ian adjusted the baby just a little so he could face Rose better. “Rose, sweetheart, I want you to listen and actually hear what I’m saying, alright? This is not an attack...”

“That never precedes anything good.”

“...it’s simply a statement of fact, alright?”

She sighed heavily. “Alright.”

“Since I’ve met you, you’ve been pregnant. Because of that, you’ve been more hormonal than you normally would be. It’s a terribly precarious time to make emotional decisions, because your emotions are all over the place. Okay? That’s not your fault. But it’s _worse_ in the first few weeks through a couple months after birth. Your body goes crazy for a while in an attempt to straighten itself out and get back to normal. You are in that time period where emotions are running much higher than usual. This is the time where postpartum depression is most likely to crop up - the baby blues peak at nine weeks after birth.”

Rose started to protest hotly, but Ian didn’t let her. “This is the rest of your life we’re talking about here, sweetheart. I want you to be as clear-headed as possible when you’re committing yourself to me.”

“I’ve _already_ committed myself to you. I share a bed with you, I share a _home_ with you… we have a _child_ together, Ian. My decision has been made - and I’m unbelievably happy with it. A wedding is just a formality, really. It’ll legalize everything and change my name to Docherty.”

Ian tilted to the side, sliding Eleanor off into his arms and swaddling the baby tight, setting her out of the way. Then he reached for Rose’s hands and brought them to his lips one at a time, kissing them. “In my entire life, I have never wanted anything more than I want to be your husband, Rose Tyler. But I would never, _ever_ be able to forgive myself if we got married and you regretted it later.”

“Why would I regret it?”

“Sweetheart --”

“You’re perfect for me, Ian. You’re the man of my dreams. The Prince Charming every little girl dreams of? I got a real one. I’ll _never_ regret giving myself to you, Ian Docherty. _Never_. And I want to do it soon. I don’t want to wait a year.”

“Rose --”

“You got your tattoo just a couple of weeks after we got together and in the throes of us moving in together, preparing for Eleanor… a highly emotional time.”

“I did, sweetheart, but I had known I was in love with you for months.”

“Just because you’ve known since last fall and I've only known since January, why does that make me any less sure? I’m _sure_.”

“It’s not --”

Her eyes were sparkling with tears. “This feels like a rejection, Ian. It feels like you don’t want me. Like you want me to change my mind.”

“That’s not it at all, sweetheart. I want you too much.”

“Marry me, then. Make an honest woman out of me.”

In the entire time he’d known her, he’d denied her nothing. How the fuck was he supposed to deny her this? He couldn’t and knew he couldn’t. Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss to her lips. “When?”

“As soon as I get my body back. Hopefully not long.”

“You look amazing, sweetheart.”

“Thank you, but you’re biased.”

“How about a Christmas wedding?” he suggested, still wanting to push it out a ways. “The mansion is gorgeous when it’s decorated for the holidays.”

“I have another idea,” Rose said, looking hopeful and cautious. “Let’s do it in November.”

“November?”

“Yes,” she nodded, looking even more shy. “Do you remember the weekend you came and stayed with me after… after Norway?”

He would never forget that weekend. It had been heavenly, being so close to her, spending time with her, making her laugh. But it had been an absolute hell, watching her sob brokenly, feeling completely helpless to do anything to help her. “I don’t think I could ever fucking forget,” he said, feeling tense, like he’d chewed on tin foil. 

“Yeah, it’s not the best memory for me, either. But do you know what I remember?”

Ian dreaded the answer. He really didn’t want to talk about this. But he had to ask anyway. “What?”

“I was hurting, but you were going to heal me, and I think part of me knew it even then. I remember wanting you beside me because you made me feel safe - in every possible way. And I think I knew that you were going to make sure that nothing and nobody ever hurt me that way again.”

“That’s true,” Ian said, slightly relieved by what she’d said. 

“Marry me that weekend, Ian. The anniversary of the weekend you picked me up and dusted me off. I want to overwrite all the bad with only good - and it can only be good when I’m with you. Like that weekend proved… even the worst thing that ever happened to me was bearable because you were there.”

Ian pulled her over into his arms, cradling her close. “I can’t say no to that, sweetheart. November it is.”

~*~O~*~

25 May 2012

It had only been fifteen days since Eleanor had been born, but Rose felt almost like herself again - just tired. She still wasn’t fitting in her old clothes, though, and was grateful that her mother and Ian had talked her into buying some summerweight maternity clothes in the late winter and spring. They were coming in handy now. 

Deciding to dress up a little for dinner, she put on her favorite flowy dress, the navy one with polka dots. She put on some strappy sandals and pulled her hair into a french twist, off her neck, then put on some makeup. Once she looked as good as she was going to, she descended the stairs. 

Ian was in the lounge, having declared himself ready nearly an hour before while Rose was nursing the baby. He’d kicked back in his favorite chair with the telly on and Eleanor in her usual place on his chest, dressed and ready to go. He was in jeans and, not surprisingly, he’d put the baby in one of her several ‘Daddy’s girl’ outfits. When he saw her come in the room he sat up, his eyes wide, his eyes flicking from her mouth to her chest to her hips and back up. Rose panicked a little, licking her teeth to make sure she hadn’t gotten anything in them. 

“What?” she demanded.

He stared at her for a second longer, then smiled and got to his feet, putting Eleanor down in her swing and starting towards her. “Nothing. It just occurs to me that I haven’t kissed you all day.”

Rose relaxed, giggling and laying her hands on his shoulders while he circled her waist. “You have too, you daft thing. You kissed me before you came downstairs. And after lunch. And when I laid down with Eleanor. And several other times.”

“Ah, yes,” he acknowledged, “but I haven’t _properly_ kissed you.”

“ _Properly_ kissed me?” she asked with her tongue touching her teeth. 

“Yes,” he said, dipping his head and bumping her nose with his. “Properly kissed.”

Before she could ask him to elaborate on what a ‘proper kiss’ was, he showed her. His lips slid against hers, wooing her, worshiping her, until his tongue breached the seam of her mouth. He romanced her with his kiss, telling her as clearly as any words how much he loved her and wanted her, and when he was done, she was clinging tightly to him for support, as her knees were wobbly. 

“How was that?”

She hadn’t opened her eyes yet, her head spinning pleasantly. “How was what?”

Ian chuckled, low and sinful, then nuzzled her neck, making her squeal and clutch him tighter. He rumbled laughter against her skin, pressing a couple of kisses there, then raised his head to look at her. “There. Now you’ve been properly kissed.”

“I’d say so,” she agreed. “You should feel free to do that anytime you like.”

“Thank you, I will,” he smiled. “Are you ready to go?”

“Ready to go to bed now, thanks to you.”

Ian grinned. “Not for four more weeks, I’m sorry to say. Have to give you time to heal.”

She tugged on his belt. “I feel fine. Take me to bed.”

“Sweetheart…”

“You can’t just kiss me like that and expect me not to jump your bones, Ian Docherty.”

He laughed. “I promise, sweetheart. We’re going to. But not until your body is ready.”

“Oh, my body is ready, alright.”

“Rose…”

She sighed in defeat. “Fine. We’ll do it your way. But I’m not responsible for my actions if you kiss me like that again.”

Ian dropped a little kiss to her nose. “Noted. Now let’s take the baby to your parents’ and plan a wedding.”

They made little bets with each other in the car on the way to the mansion about the way the evening would go, laughing at each other’s predictions. Ian was proven correct when they pulled up to find an impatient Jackie at the front door. 

“Well come on, if you’re coming!” she called, reaching for the carrier as soon as Ian was close enough. She grabbed it away from him and started talking to Eleanor - who was still sleeping soundly. “Hello, little princess. Came to see Nan? Have they been taking good care of my girl? Hmm?”

Ian and Rose looked at each other, and he grinned when she rolled her eyes. They followed Jackie through the mansion, hand in hand, until she came to a stop in the lounge. She sat the carrier down and started unbuckling Eleanor while Ian and Rose went to have a seat on the sofa. He threw his arm around her lazily and Rose leaned into his side.

“There, there,” Jackie soothed the wriggling baby. “Nan’s got you, sweet girl. Look at you! I haven’t seen you for two days. I think you might have grown!”

“She hasn’t gotten bigger in two days, Mum.”

“You don’t know that,” her mother said matter-of-factly. “She might have.”

Rose opened her mouth to argue, but Ian nudged her shoulder. She looked at him and he shook his head a little in a clear ‘let it go’ gesture. She sighed, surrendering, and nuzzled just a little closer to him. He kissed the top of her hair. 

“Pete should be along shortly,” Jackie said without looking up from the sleeping baby in her arms. “He had some situation at work he needed to attend to.”

“That’s no problem,” Rose told her mother. “Neither of us are especially hungry.” With Jackie’s attention elsewhere, Rose gave Ian a look that said otherwise. He smirked at her.

“Rose, I do believe she’s the prettiest baby I ever saw. Looks like you did. Well, a bit. You looked more like a potato. An angry potato.”

Ian snorted but stopped abruptly when Rose elbowed him in the side, and the contrite look he gave her was betrayed by the twinkling of his eyes. She pursed her lips at him and he said quietly, “You’re beautiful.”

“You’re biased.”

“That I am.”

Her eyes darted down to his smirking mouth. She wanted nothing more than to kiss him to death when he looked like that but before either of them could do anything, Pete came striding into the room.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said, catching everyone’s attention. His voice seemed to startle Eleanor, and she began to cry. Jackie cradled her close, shushing her, but she didn’t have much of a chance to quiet the baby before Ian was on his feet, pulling Eleanor from her grandmother’s hands.

“Now what’d you do that for?” Jackie demanded. “I could have calmed her down!”

“Don’t take it personal, Mum,” Rose said with an amused grin at Ian, who was bouncing Eleanor and singing softly to her, either oblivious to the conversation or not giving a damn. “He’s quite a bit like a mother bear when it comes to his baby girl. Hello, Dad.”

“Hello, Rose.” Pete bent to place a kiss on her cheek, then raised his voice a bit as he straightened. “Hello, Ian.”

“You fucking startled her,” Ian accused without preamble, and Rose had to hide a smile. He had calmed her somewhat with his bouncing and rocking, but she still whined and squirmed.

“I’ll do my best not to let it happen again,” Pete promised. “Denise informed me that dinner is running a bit behind.”

Jackie’s eyes twinkled. “Another garnish emergency?”

Pete smiled at her, and his eyes were so soft, so affectionate, that Rose felt she was intruding on a private moment. Then she realized with a grin that other people likely felt that way about her and Ian - and neither of them cared. 

Eleanor was still fussing a bit, despite Ian’s best efforts. He offered her the dummy and it only worked for a moment before she spit it out and started to fuss more.

“Here, Ian,” Rose said, getting to her feet and reaching for the baby. “She’s due to eat soon. Let me go ahead and feed her.”

“That’s a great idea,” Pete said. “And we can go shoot pool for a little while until dinner’s ready. You’ve been so wrapped up with the baby, I haven’t been able to tempt you away.”

“It’s only been two fucking weeks.”

Pete clicked his tongue. “Giving Rose and Jacks thirty minutes of girl time won’t kill you, Ian. C’mon.”

Ian looked reluctant, but acquiesced. He transferred the baby to Rose, then bent low and kissed Eleanor’s head. “Daddy loves you, Little Face.” Before she could do more than smile, he had cupped her cheek and was kissing her gently. She never wanted him to stop, never wanted that feeling to end, but he broke away after a moment. “Love you, sweetheart,” he whispered.

She smiled up at him, deliriously happy. “Love you, too.”

Ian dropped another kiss to Rose’s lips and the baby’s head, then followed Pete out of the lounge, casting one more glance over his shoulder at Rose and winking. She felt herself flush, then sat down on the couch with the still-squirming Eleanor and made herself comfortable so she could nurse. Jackie was quiet until Rose got the baby latched, then spoke a few seconds later.

“You two seem to be getting along well.”

“We do get along well. We have our moments, like every couple, but we’re very well-matched, I think.”

“Are you still going to marry him?”

Rose laughed. “Of course I am.”

“Do you miss the Doctor?”

Last fall, that question would have had Rose in a heap on the ground, crying. Today, she shrugged. “I mean, I do, of course. I think about him everytime I see someone in a leather jacket or with messy hair. He was a big part of my life and I wouldn’t change anything about my time with him. But I’m where I’m meant to be. This is the life I’m meant to lead. There’s no question.”

“What about you?”

“I just told you about me.”

“No, what are you going to do for you? Are you going back to Torchwood? Or that center?”

“I haven’t decided yet. There’s plenty of time. I can just be Ian’s wife and Eleanor’s mother for now.”

“Is that what’s going to make you happy, sweetheart?” Jackie asked, sounding concerned. 

She looked down at the nursing baby, her heart full to bursting with love for her daughter. She thought of Ian, and the way he made her feel complete and loved. The light shone off of her ring and she remembered that the three of them would be together forever. Lastly, she remembered the way her mum and dad were so supportive of her, so protective, and loved her so much. 

A tear fell on Eleanor’s head, darkening the brown hair it landed on. “Yeah, Mum. My family is what makes me happy. And I’ve never been happier in my whole life.”

“That’s all I need to hear, then,” Jackie said, sounding satisfied. “Now hurry up and feed my granddaughter. She wants to come see her Nan - since her daddy can’t snatch her away.”


	83. Chapter 83

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THREE THOUSAND COMMENTS!!! HOLY CRAP YOU GUYS ARE AMAZING!!! We love you all so much!!!! <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 Thank you!!!

25 May 2012 (cont.)

“Will that daughter of mine allow you a drink?” Pete asked once they got to the billiards room, raising a ginger eyebrow and one corner of his mouth to indicate he was teasing. “I know you’re under the thumb…”

“Oh, fuck you,” Ian swore, playing along and accepting the offered drink from his laughing best friend. 

"I have to tell you, Ian, if anyone had ever told me that I’d one day have a granddaughter and you’d be her father, I’d have had them sectioned."

Ian snorted. "If anyone had told me I’d be having a baby at forty-six, I’d have laughed myself fucking stupid."

Pete raised his glass and Ian did, too, waiting to see what the other man would toast to. 

“To holes between universes and the gifts they’ve given us. May we never find another one.”

“I’ll drink to that.” He clinked his glass with Pete’s and they both took a swig of the brown scotch. 

Ian’s attention was caught when Pete sat down his drink, went to the wall and pulled down his stick. Getting his mind back in the present, Ian copied his actions and got his own stick. Pete racked the balls and the two began to play. 

“How is fatherhood?”

“Fucking fantastic,” he said with a bright smile. “Best thing that ever happened to me.”

“I can tell,” Pete said dryly, bending over the table. “Three decades and I’ve never seen you like this.”

“Well, I’ve never been like this. I’m happy for the first time in my life. Before Rose came, I...well, I wasn’t _miserable_. But she makes me happy - truly happy.”

"What did Graham and Grace say about Eleanor being yours?"

He circled the table, looking for a shot. "Rose and I haven’t talked much about it, but I’m leaning towards not telling them. I don't want them to think less of Rose for jumping from one relationship to another, especially when that's not how it happened."

"Then how are you going to explain it if Eleanor starts to look like you - _when_ she starts to look like you? The eyes are damning enough, Ian, and you know they're a recessive trait."

Ian stood straight, peering at Pete. “I’m not sure I like the word ‘damning’, as if my daughter looking like me is some sort of undesirable circumstance.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know. It still rubs me fucking wrong.”

Pete was undaunted. “What are you going to tell them?”

“I’m still not certain I should. I’m not keen on lying to my family.”

“There’s a lie here either way. Unless you tell them the whole truth, which I don’t recommend, they believe false information no matter what. Either they believe that she’s _not_ your daughter, or you tell them a version of the truth that explains her paternity. You don’t even have to state explicitly that you and Rose were ...together. Implying should be enough - especially for your aunt.”

He thought on that for a minute. As much as the day was seared on his memory, he couldn’t remember exactly what he’d told his aunt about the beginning of his and Rose’s relationship, whether or not he’d left himself enough wiggle room to imply that he and Rose had had a night together. Pete was right, though - his auntie was a shrewd woman who would recognize her nephew’s face in Eleanor’s. It needed to be addressed soon.

“I don’t even understand how it happened,” Ian mused aloud. “I never touched her before that weekend in Glasgow, when she was already nearly eight months pregnant. Logically, Eleanor shouldn’t be mine.”

“What does Rose say?” Pete asked, chalking his cue and not looking at Ian. 

“We haven’t talked about it. But she knows something she’s not telling,” Ian said. “There’s some information about how this happened that she’s holding back.”

“You should talk to her. See what she says.”

Ian shook his head without even realizing he’d done it. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. It wasn’t necessary for him to understand _how_ it happened. He’d rather just be grateful that it _had_ happened.

“I don’t feel like looking that gift horse in the fucking mouth, Pete.”

“Talk to her,” Pete encouraged, patting his shoulder gently, and Ian was certain now that that _he_ knew more than he was telling, too. He started to challenge Pete, to demand to know, but still wasn’t sure that he _wanted_ to know. His world was perfect. Why open the door for that world to be rocked?

~*~O~*~

27 May 2012

Rose swayed back and forth, rocking the baby who was swaddled in the papoose on her chest while smiling down at Ian. He was surrounded by several boxes where he sat on a low bench, bent over to tie the tenth pair of shoes he’d tried. 

“You know,” she smirked, “When you told me you wanted to go out and buy a pair of running shoes instead of just ordering a pair online, I thought that was a bit odd. Makes sense now, though. I had no idea you were so persnickety.”

“Oi!” he protested, looking up at her with narrowed brows. Rose pursed her lips to keep from giggling. “I am not ‘persnickety’. You take that right the fuck back.”

“You’re on your tenth pair of sneakers, Ian,” she reasoned.

“And something has been wrong with every one of them so far. I’m _discerning_ ,” he explained, then gave her a little wink. They’d been together months now, but it still made her stomach swoop when he did that. She had a feeling it always would. 

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” she told him. 

“What?”

“Take up jogging again.”

He snorted, tying a bow. “I do have to, if I want to get in shape and stay there. You’ve been wonderful for me, sweetheart, in every area of my life but one - you’ve been a fucking nightmare for my waistline.”

“I don’t care about your waistline, Ian. I just care that you’re with me.”

Ian got to his feet and bounced in place a little, testing the shoes. Apparently satisfied, he took a step over to Rose, cupped her cheek and kissed her. “Which is another good reason for me to get back to running. I’m not as young as you are. This’ll help me stay with you longer. Besides that, it’ll keep me in shape so I can… keep up with you.” 

He added that last with a lascivious look, and Rose felt more than a passing stir of arousal. She blushed when he looked at her knowingly, then kissed her lightly and went back to the shoes he currently had on. 

Rose darted her eyes around to ensure they were alone then said, “If you get any better at… _that_... I don’t know if I could handle it.”

“You’ve always been pregnant so far, sweetheart. We have no idea what it will be like when you’re not.”

“I know it’s going to be phenomenal. Explosive.”

“Too fucking right it is,” Ian promised, his eyes blazing, and Rose felt herself shiver in the warm room. 

“Pardon me,” a sales associate said, interrupting their moment and making Rose flush brilliantly, hoping the clerk hadn’t overheard. “Are you done with these?”

“Yes,” Ian said, slipping back into socially acceptable mode - or so Rose thought. “I’ve found the pair I want.” He gave her a seductive look. “Just have to make them mine now.”

Rose had a flash of boldness. “I’m pretty sure they’re dying to go home with you.”

Ian smirked at her answer, then handed the shoes he wanted over to the gaping salesperson while Rose ducked her head and bounced Eleanor, flushing. He paid for the purchase, then took Rose’s hand in his, bringing it to his lips and kissing it before they started out of the store. 

Rose lowered her sunglasses from the top of her head down to her nose, which gave her the ability to look at Ian covertly. He’d slipped his Ray-Bans on and they complimented the t-shirt and jeans he wore that fit him extremely well. The sunlight glinted off the silver in his hair, and his hand was wrapped firmly around hers. She felt so incredibly lucky in that moment.

“Penny for ‘em,” Ian offered, and Rose smiled up at him as they walked. 

“The best-looking, most amazing bloke in all the world, and he’s holding my hand, walking with me through London.”

Ian scoffed. “I’m hardly the best-looking, most amazing bloke in all the world, sweetheart.”

“I think you are,” she replied, squeezing his hand. “And I’m the one who’s with you. I’m wearing your ring and I’m carrying your daughter.”

They came to a stop at a street corner and as she’d hoped, he took advantage of the time to bend down and kiss her. “You are,” he agreed. “I love you, too, sweetheart.”

Rose beamed up at him, thrilled that he recognized her declaration for what it was. He looked back down at her and she could see the tenderness all over his face - the glasses didn’t hide anything. 

_You are the luckiest woman alive, Rose Tyler._

The light changed, breaking the spell and causing the two of them to start walking again, hands still joined. When they were out of the zebra crossing, Ian asked, “Was there anywhere else you wanted to go?” 

Rose pursed her lips, thinking, and shook her head. “Can’t think of anywhere.”

“How’s daddy’s princess? Think she’d be alright if we stopped for ice cream?”

“I think so. Is this you asking me out to ice cream? Like a date?” 

“Maybe it is,” he smirked down at her, then brought her hand up to kiss it again. “I’ll even spring for sprinkles.”

Rose laughed out loud. “Well how can I say no to sprinkles?” Ian laughed with her for just a second, then sobered quickly, peering away from Rose. “Ian? What is it?”

“Paparazzo on the opposite side of the street, taking our picture.”

Automatically, her hand came up to cover the baby protectively and make sure her face was covered, but her tone with Ian was much less concerned. “So?”

“So I hate being harassed by these fuckers.”

“It’s your fault for being so bloody handsome.” He gave her a withering look and she giggled, then tugged his hand. “Ian, it’s going to happen no matter what we do. We might as well learn to live with it.”

Ian sighed. “That’s basically what your father said the other night when we were talking about the interview. He thinks we should do it.”

“Mum was giving me the same spiel. She thinks we should do it, too.”

“What do you think?”

Rose shrugged. “What they’re saying makes sense to me and Dad’s PR man thinks we should do it. Pierce is champing at the bit to book the date. He’s got a magazine and reporter all ready to go. Just needs our go-ahead. He says if we do the article with a trusted journalist, we can control the narrative about us. Say what we want to say.”

“I don’t know how I feel about that,” Ian said slowly. “What do they want to do, just an introduction to us as a family?”

“And to us as a society couple, yeah,” Rose agreed, then she grinned. “I’m the Vitex Heiress and you’re a Sully Award Winner. That’s not touching on the age gap. Like it or not, we’re newsworthy. An official announcement of our engagement is likely to be big news. And pictures of the baby are going to sell for a fortune. With Eleanor’s beautiful face on the cover… We can donate the money back to a charity, probably the clinic. ”

“Hadn’t thought of that last bit,” Ian admitted. Then he snorted. “They may ask me to stay out of the photoshoot so they can have the two beautiful members of the Docherty family and leave out the homely one.”

She narrowed her brows at him. “I’ve never dated a homely bloke in my life and I’m certainly not about to marry one. You are dead sexy, Ian Docherty, and you’ll do well to remember it.”

He leaned across and kissed her scowl lightly. “Yes, ma’am.”

She was satisfied - for the moment. “Good. Now. Do you want to do the interview or not?”

“I want fucking nothing to do with any kind of interview, but those are all salient points for why we should.”

Rose squeezed his hand. “I’m not willing to talk to anyone without your full-throated support, and preferably you’ll be beside me. If you really think it’s a bad idea, then it won’t happen. Period. We won’t even consider it. But the photographers on street corners aren’t going to go away, no matter what we do.”

They got to the ice cream shop and went in, Ian ordering a cup of rum raisin, Rose getting cookies and cream. She passed on the rainbow sprinkles, then laughed at her bloke when he got some. Very few people ever saw the silly side of Ian Docherty, but she was thrilled to be one of them. 

Taking a seat at a table, they started to eat their ice cream, chatting about this and that, flirting incessantly. They gave each other tastes of their ice cream and Ian dotted the tip of Rose’s nose with his cream-filled spoon, making her giggle. Rose talked more than Ian, meaning that when Eleanor started to stir and fuss, she was only halfway through her ice cream. 

“Give her to me,” Ian instructed, and Rose did so, pulling the agitated baby out of the wrap, kissing her lightly, and handing her over. The baby calmed a little when she saw her father smiling down at her, but Rose didn’t take time to appreciate the moment. Instead, she dug in the bag for Eleanor’s bottle, giving it to Ian as soon as she found it. Ian pulled the top off with his teeth and within two seconds, Eleanor was suckling happily, gazing up at her daddy adoringly. 

“I’m so glad that you and Mum talked me into the bottles,” Rose remarked, smiling serenely, completely content. “Seeing you feed her and bond with her that way is the most wonderful feeling.”

“Surely not _the_ most wonderful feeling,” he teased, and she flushed.

“You’re just a randy old man,” she accused, her tongue going between her teeth. 

“That I am. But I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

He fed the baby quietly for a few minutes, singing to her under his breath, and Rose finished her ice cream almost pensively. 

“Mum settled on a wedding planner she wants. Dad wouldn’t let her hire the woman until we approved.” 

“Okay.”

“Okay? That’s all?”

“That’s all. Go ahead and hire her.”

“You’re not upset?”

Ian shrugged. “Why would I be upset? If that’s what you want, I want it, too.”

It was Rose’s turn to raise one shoulder in a shrug, looking down at her empty bowl. “I want to be married to you. That’s all I’m interested in.”

“Liar,” Ian accused with a knowing grin. “It’s going to be the biggest day of your life, a huge party to celebrate you and me. All eyes will be on you. I know you’re not a fucking diva or anything, but are you actually going to sit there and tell me you have _no_ interest in it?”

She flushed - he knew her so well. “Well…”

“The dress, the cake, the flowers… not to mention the fact that this will be the society event of the year. You have no interest _at all_?”

“Oh, alright, I do. I want it to be beautiful.”

Ian grinned, smug, and she wanted to kiss that smile right off his face. Eleanor spit out the bottle and Ian brought her to his shoulder to burp with smooth, natural movements. Rose stared at his left hand as it patted the baby’s back, imagining for the upteenth time what it would look like with a gold band around the third finger. 

“You and your mum hire a wedding planner - the best in the business. Then plan a fantastic wedding. Money is no object. Between your dad and me, there is no budget.”

“That feels… I don’t know. Decadent. Almost reckless.”

“No budget,” he repeated, then lowered Eleanor back into his arms. The little girl looked up at her father with bright eyes and Rose’s heart soared at the beaming love and pride on Ian’s face. “Hey there, Daddy’s baby. Are you all full up? Is your tummy happy now?”

Eleanor just continued to gaze at Ian, and Rose watched both of them with tears threatening, so very happy with her life.

~*~O~*~

28 May 2012

“I can’t do it, Rose,” Ian protested. “I can’t. I’ll fuck it up.”

“You won’t fuck it up,” she assured him. “You’ll be brilliant.”

“What if I hurt her?”

“You’re not going to hurt her. Honestly, Ian, you do delicate surgeries all the time!”

“Yes, but I don’t give a fuck about those people.”

Rose smirked at him. “Liar.”

Damn. Of course his sweetheart knew better. He shouldn’t even try to fool her. 

Not acknowledging her, he looked back to the blue-eyed little girl lying on his lap. Eleanor studied her father, and the absolute trust in her little eyes made him ache.

“What if I make her bleed?” he asked, almost to himself. 

“She’ll cry a little, but she’ll heal quickly and forgive you even quicker. On top of that, she’s so little she won’t even remember it. She loves her daddy, Ian. You’re not going to lose her love if you make her finger bleed while you’re trimming her nails.”

Leave it to Rose to get to the heart of the matter so quickly. Ian sighed, taking a deep breath to brace himself. Then he took his baby’s little fingers in his and bent over with the clippers. 

Two minutes later, he’d cut all of the baby’s fingernails without nipping Eleanor’s tiny fingers, and beamed proudly at her. She just looked up at him as if she hadn’t doubted him for a second. Exuberant, Ian turned to Rose and kissed her, hard. 

“Congratulations, you did it,” she teased when he released her and started scooping up Eleanor. “And you managed to avoid a trip to the A&E, too.”

“Laugh it up, funny girl. But I didn’t see you shoving me out of the way to take over the job,” Ian retorted, bringing Eleanor to his chest and smirking at Rose. 

“There was no need,” she said with supreme confidence. “I wasn’t at all concerned that you would hurt her.”

“Yes, well.” Ian didn’t go any further, he just patted Eleanor on the back, settling her. He leaned back against the couch and Rose gently started nudging him to get under his free arm. He accommodated her, of course he did, and within seconds, he was holding both of the women of his life, one in each arm. He kissed the baby’s soft head gently, then turned around and kissed Rose’s upturned mouth. “I love you,” he murmured.

“Love you, too.”

He sighed contentedly. “I’m happier right now now than I’ve ever been in my entire life.”

“That chuffed over Eleanor’s nails, are you?”

Ian clicked his tongue and Rose cracked up. “Ha ha, wisearse. Very funny.”

She giggled a little more, then settled into his side. “I’m only kidding with you. Me, too. I’m happier than I’ve ever been.” She traced her fingers along the baby’s back while Ian used Eleanor’s bum to bounce her, and the silence seemed thick. He got the impression she had something to say, but just waited her out. 

Finally, she asked, “Hey, Ian?”

He tried not to smirk. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Do you want any more children?”

That was _not_ what he had been expecting, and he stammered. 

“We don’t have to,” she continued, apparently oblivious to his surprise. “But I was just curious.”

“I don’t know,” Ian answered, pensive. “I’ve never thought about it.” And it was true… having a child had never crossed his mind since the early, halcyon days of him and Jenn. It wasn’t a thought he’d entertained again until Rose had come along and he’d slowly become Eleanor’s father.

“If you want more, we’ll have them. Not right away, of course,” Rose clarified, “but later, after we get settled into married life.”

“You’re serious?” He turned his head to look at her, honestly amazed. 

Her topaz eyes blinked up at him, and she wore a little smile. “I’m completely serious. I’ll give you all the babies you want, as many as my body can handle.”

It was a gift, what she was offering him, a bigger gift than he could ever articulate, and more than he had any right to hope for. 

“We’ve only had _this_ baby for three weeks. Let’s just raise her for a little while, see what happens.” Impulsively, he kissed Eleanor’s head and then Rose’s lips. “Honestly, sweetheart, I’m not sure my heart could handle any more love. Everything I ever wanted is right here in my arms.”

She nuzzled into his chest and laid her hand over the tattoo, beside Eleanor’s face. They were quiet for a while, and Ian felt himself dozing, his mind swirling. He thought back to his daydream about a little sister for Eleanor, and dared to let himself believe it could be a reality. Or a brother! A son! A little boy to carry on his family name. His da would have been so proud.

It was too much. He couldn’t process it.

“Is it because of your age?” Rose asked, breaking the silence. 

“Is what because of my age?”

“Is that why you don’t want to talk about children?”

“No, it’s definitely something we should talk about. God knows I’m hardwired to give you whatever you want, so if you want more children, I’m almost certainly going to end up giving them to you. The idea of having babies into my fifties is a bit daunting, yes, but that’s a bridge we can cross later. I’m not saying don’t talk about it, I’m just saying let’s talk about it later, after we’ve married and Eleanor is a little older.”

“What do we do in the meantime, then?”

“Hmm?”

“For birth control. What should I do?”

Ian considered her for a minute. “I take it you don’t want me to have a vasectomy?”

“No,” she shook her head vigorously. “No. Nothing permanent. I’m not sure I want more, but I’m not ready to say we’re done, either. Are you?”

He honestly couldn’t say that, and told her so. 

“But we _can_ say that we don’t want any more _right now_. So what do we do?”

He felt himself slide into clinician mode, and let it happen just this once. “There are scads of birth control options, both over-the-counter and prescription.”

“I don’t want you to have to fool with condoms,” she said at once, and thank God for that. “So we can rule that out. Out of every other option, what do you think would be best for me?”

“Either an IUD or an implant,” he answered at once. “And I would lean more towards the implant. It’s three years of hormonal birth control, near-painless to insert and remove, and has a lower fail rate than just about anything else, save the IUD.”

“Implant it is,” Rose said cheerfully, as if the matter were finalized, and Ian supposed that it probably was. 

He asked, “Are you willing to wait three years to have the talk about more children?”

“Absolutely. Are you?”

He would be forty-nine in three years. That was definitely an advanced age for new fathers - men that age were more likely to become grandfathers - but there was nothing to be done about it. He and Rose deserved this time to be a couple. Eleanor deserved this time to be an only child. 

“I am. I’m willing to wait as long as it takes until you make a decision or are ready.”

They cuddled quietly for a few minutes and Ian just soaked it all up, all the joy the moment had to offer. “She’s so beautiful,” Rose remarked. “I can’t imagine that I made something this beautiful, this perfect.”

“You certainly did,” he told her, smiling gently at the baby. “I’ll never understand my role in it, though,” he marveled.

He could feel sudden tension coming off of Rose, and again, that feeling that she knew something she wasn’t telling assailed him. It made him insecure and afraid, but he still wasn’t certain he _wanted_ her to tell him anything. Frankly, he thought he was happier not knowing.


	84. Chapter 84

6 June 2012

Rose sat in Eleanor’s nursery, rocking gently, humming lightly while Eleanor nursed, and contemplating motherhood. She had loved her baby almost from the moment she found out she was pregnant, but she was frankly surprised at how that love seemed to grow every day. The first couple of weeks after she’d given birth were disorienting, but Ian and her mother had both assured her that she was doing fine and would feel more confident soon. They’d proven to be right. Now, at four weeks postpartum, she felt much more secure in what she was doing, much more relaxed. 

When she thought back to this (approximate) time last year, the changes in her life were nothing short of radical. She felt older - and of course she _was_ older, but it was more than that. She had responsibilities now, people who loved her, who needed her. While travelling in the TARDIS, she’d believed that life, traveling to distant worlds and all over time, would be the greatest adventure she’d ever have. And it had been wonderful. She didn’t regret a second of it. But the greatest adventure of her life was currently swaddled in her arms, dozing as she nursed.

And then there was Ian. She honestly didn’t know what life would be like without him - and never _wanted_ to know. He made her feel safe, made her feel secure. She felt confident when he was by her side, certain that she could do anything at all. He was going back to work soon and, while she knew that he couldn’t stay home with her all the time, of course he couldn’t, she was dreading him being gone. Eleanor and her mother would keep her plenty busy, she reckoned, but still. Being near Ian made her happy. It frankly surprised her just how madly, deeply, passionately she loved him. 

The object of her thoughts poked his head around the corner and smiled when he caught sight of her. 

“There are my girls. Everything going alright?”

Rose nodded. “Everything’s fine. She’s almost done, I think. Have a good jog?”

“I’m so fucking out of shape it’s a miracle the post carrier wasn’t stopping to check on me. But good.” He sauntered in wearing a mischievous grin and she raised an eyebrow at him. 

“What are you up to?”

“Nothing. Just got something you may be interested in, is all.”

“Oh?”

With a flourish, he pulled a magazine from behind his back and showed it to her. There they were on the cover - the little Docherty family, Ian and Rose bent over to gaze upon their little miracle. Eleanor slept soundly in the photo, just as she did right now. Rose took the offered magazine with her free hand and read the headline aloud. 

“At home with Rose Tyler and Ian Docherty - and introducing their baby girl, Eleanor.”

“Hand her to me, sweetheart, and I’ll burp her so you can read.” Rose looked up from the magazine to see that Ian had already tossed a cloth over his shoulder and was reaching for the baby. Rose let her go without any protest, then opened the magazine and turned to the article, reading out loud. 

“Baby oh Baby, by Jacinda Collins.”

“Imaginative title,” Ian snarked, lightly bouncing the baby in his arms a few feet away. Rose just pursed her lips at him and went on.

“To say Rose Tyler was an unknown entity before this past autumn would be a major understatement. No one had even heard of her, an amazing feat given the social profile of her parents, Peter and Jacqueline Tyler of Vitex Energy Drink fame.”

Ian snorted again. “Jacqueline. Your mum is a lot of things, but she’s _not_ a Jacqueline.”

Rose gave him a look - he grinned back unrepentantly - then went on. “Dr. Ian Docherty is fairly well known on the London social scene, primarily through Pete Tyler, his longtime best friend. It makes sense that Ian and Rose would meet and even be friends of a sort. But nobody expected the twenty-five year old heiress and the forty-six year old doctor to fall in love. Yet they did.”

“We sure did,” Ian commented with soft eyes for her. Rose bit her lip through a return smile. 

“Shall I keep reading?”

“You read all you like, sweetheart,” Ian told her, rocking the baby. 

“Is there anything I’m not going to like in here?” she asked cautiously.

Ian shrugged. “I don’t think so. Just read it,” he continued, adjusting Eleanor, “I think I’m going to lay this little lady down and take a shower while you read.”

“Okay.” She watched him lower the baby into the cot with confident movements and absolute tenderness, and her eyes followed his every motion with something like hunger. He was so gorgeous…

“Are you still up for going to Auntie’s this weekend?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I just don’t want to overtax you so soon after having the baby.”

Rose snorted. “Except for being sleepy, I feel like my old self. Everything is back to normal. Going to Auntie’s will be fun - we haven’t left the house much and your family will love seeing her.”

“They will,” he agreed, then bent to kiss her sweetly. “You relax. I’m going to go shower, and then we can go out if you’d like.”

“Go where?”

Ian shrugged. “I don’t know. Out. We’ve been cooped up in the fucking house for weeks.”

“We went to get shoes…”

He gave her a look. “I’d like to go out today, if we can.”

She considered him for a second. Poor thing, he was probably about to lose his mind from cabin fever. 

“Alright. Maybe we can go have a late lunch or something. I’ll ring Henry. We’ll likely need a bodyguard if this just hit the newsstands.”

“Good thinking. Thank you, sweetheart. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

With one more quick kiss to her lips and a stroke to the baby’s head, he turned and left, heading towards their bedroom and the shower. Rose went back to reading the article. She trusted Ian that there was nothing in it that she wouldn’t like, so she didn’t feel compelled to read it thoroughly, but did scan the pages. 

_She looks amazing to have just had a baby, her belly only slightly round, like she had a large lunch, and I resolve to ask her what her beauty secrets are. She looks entirely too rested for someone with a newborn, and I simply must know how she does it._

Rose snorted. Flattery. 

_For his part, Dr. Docherty looks nearly as rested, although I do spot some smudges under his eyes. But as he sits down on the couch and puts his arm around Rose, he’s clearly a happy man, and I suspect he won’t be doing much complaining about how tired he is. With the way his eyes twinkle when he looks at Rose, I’m doubtful he’ll complain about anything at all._

She grinned. It did seem that Ian rarely complained, but then, she didn’t either. How did someone complain about perfection? Rose kept reading and got to a section of the interview that had jarred her a week ago. It still jarred her, even now. 

_“I’m assuming the age difference is one of the ‘dozen reasons’ you refer to that should have kept you apart?”_

_“Yes, although I don’t know if Rose ever considered it at all.”_

_She shakes her head, “No, not really. It never mattered to me how old he is or how young I am. We fit. We make sense. We’re meant to be, and that’s what’s important. I think it bothered him more than it bothered me. He brought it up once, I told him I didn’t care, and that was the end of it.”_

_“Are you aware of the statistic that says the divorce rate for couples with a twenty-year-age gap is ninety-five percent?”_

_Rose surprises me when she laughs. “We’ve beaten longer odds than that.”_

Her laugh had been a bit of a cover. That statistic scared her a little, but she’d been telling the truth when she said they’d beat longer odds. Once again, she thought of Bad Wolf and wondered if and when to tell Ian about what she now understood about how she’d ended up here, with him, and what she suspected about Eleanor. The perfect moment would likely never present itself, but she resolved to keep looking for it. 

The water turned on on the other side of the wall and she grinned a little, knowing that Ian was naked in there. An idea dawned and she debated for only a second before setting the magazine down and getting to her feet. Crossing her fingers that the baby would stay asleep, she made her way to the bedroom. 

He hadn’t bothered to push the en suite door completely closed, and Rose smirked. That was as good as an invitation, wasn’t it? She could hear Ian in the shower, humming to himself, completely oblivious that she was only a few feet away. The internal debate lasted only a moment before she was shedding her clothes and pushing open the door.

She had to stifle a giggle when he didn't hear her come in. The would-be giggle died though when she got a look at him through the glass shower wall. She had seen him _after_ countless showers, but she’d never seen him _in_ the shower before. His body was long and lean, a state which belied his strength. As she’d noted before, his hair curled when wet. She’d always been tempted to touch it, now the temptation was even greater - and she strongly suspected he’d welcome her running her fingers through it, especially if she scratched her nails on his scalp. 

Water sluiced down fair skin, and Rose was desperately jealous of the water that was getting to touch him while she only watched. They hadn’t seen each other naked since the last time they had made love, almost a month and a half ago. Everything had felt nearly desperate those times, like they were each afraid the other would disappear. The tenderness had come after - and under the covers. 

Well, she thought, perhaps she should rectify that. She’d like nothing more than to run her hands all over her bloke, learning him, exploring him. He was naked right now and the baby was asleep. It seemed like serendipity to her. 

She started across the bathroom and was about halfway there when she caught sight of herself in the large mirror. Where she’d once enjoyed a flat abdomen and trim figure, she was about a dozen pounds heavier than she had been when she found out she was pregnant. Of course, she still _looked_ pregnant, her belly swollen as it had been at around four months, when it had just started rounding. At least then her skin had been taut. Now it was… loose. The stretch marks she had were still maroon and her belly button was just starting to go back to its proper position. 

Rose prodded at her belly and her finger dipped into her flesh an alarming amount. Her eyes wide and brimming with tears, she put her hands on her hips. They were also much softer than she was accustomed to. Without thinking, she brought her hands up to her breasts and measured their heft. They were quite a bit bigger than they used to be and when she pulled her hand away, there was a drop of fluid on her fingers - milk. 

This was a mistake. She had no business trying to seduce him until after her body got back to some semblance of normal - somewhere in the vicinity of ‘attractive’ - and quit leaking all over the place. As it stood now…

Tears gathered and one fell, splashing on her oversized breast. Deciding she was being stupid, she turned to leave the bathroom and put her clothes back on so she could have a good cry before he got done. Maybe, if she was lucky, he’d never know --

“Rose?”

Her eyes slid closed and two more tears fell. Taking a deep breath, she turned around, prepared to tell him that she was sorry, she was leaving, to lie about the baby needing her - anything to get herself out of this humiliating situation. 

Ian was propping himself against the wall, crossing his arms and ankles, his cock twitching and lips smirking. He eyed her up and down appreciatively, and Rose felt her cheeks heat.

“Well hello there, sweetheart,” he said in a low, rumbling voice, and dear _God_ that was the sexiest thing she’d ever heard.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your shower --”

“Sure looks like you did,” he smirked. 

She ignored him. “I’ll go put on my clothes, let you relax for a bit.”

“Rose, stop,” he commanded gently when she turned to leave. She did what he asked, bowing her head a little, letting another pair of tears fall silently. 

“Look at me, sweetheart.” Rose shook her head a little and he spoke again. “Rose, look at me.”

She turned but didn’t meet his eyes, noting briefly that he was no longer leaning - he looked poised to come after her if need be. She fought the urge to cover herself, run, anything. Ian held out his hand in invitation, much as he’d done the night they met. “C’mere.”

“I should go --” she started feebly. 

“C’mere, Rose. Come take a shower with me.”

Surrendering, she nodded and went to the shower with her head down. As soon as she shut the door, Ian was on her, tugging her body flush to his with an arm around her waist, cupping the back of her head and kissing her slowly, deeply. When he’d kissed her nearly to hypoxia, he loosened his hold on her and leaned his forehead against hers, smiling. “Sorry, I was just dying to kiss you. Couldn’t stand it another fucking minute.” Then he trailed the backs of his wet fingers across her cheek. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“I just…” she started, then looked away - up at the ceiling, to the rack holding the shampoos - anywhere but at him.

“You just what?”

“I don’t feel beautiful anymore,” she said softly, letting the tears fall. “You deserve someone gorgeous, someone _perfect_...”

“I already have someone gorgeous, someone perfect. I have the only woman I’ll ever want.”

“I used to be so pretty,” she cried, still not looking at him, looking at her feet now. “I had a flat stomach and perfect boobs and was thin but now…” Rose wiped away the tears on one cheek almost angrily. “Now I’m fat - just look at my hips! I still look pregnant and my skin is marked up and my boobs - God only knows what my boobs are doing.”

Ian reached up and lightly - so lightly - ran his fingers down the side of one breast. “They’re nourishing our baby. They’re keeping her healthy and helping her grow. And they’re beautiful, Rose.” She huffed a laugh, still refusing to look at him, and he put his hands on her belly and stroked his thumbs across it. “This is where you carried our daughter. You kept her cozy and warm for thirty-seven weeks, then delivered her safely. Look at me, sweetheart.” 

She did, turning her red-rimmed eyes up to his. 

“How could any of those things ever be anything less than absolutely fucking beautiful to me? You see them as imperfections. I see them as evidence of just how fucking perfect you are.”

Her shoulders sagged a bit, defeated, and her lip wibbled. “Ian…”

“What?”

“I just want to be pretty for you. You deserve someone gorgeous. I want to be sexy for you, someone you can be proud of.”

“I thought we’d settled the matter of me being proud to be seen with you awhile back? I’m about to fucking burst with pride every time we’re out together. Fuck, I’m about to burst every minute of every _day_ that someone as gorgeous and amazing and fucking _perfect_ as you would ever deign to spend time with a shite like me. There’s nothing I could ever do that would make me worthy of you.”

“But--”

He cut her off. “And as for sexy…” He took her hand and put it on his steel-hard cock. “Does _that_ feel like I don’t find you to be the sexiest woman in the fucking universe? God, Rose, I’m in a constant state of arousal for you. Have been for fucking _months_. I thought I was past the age of getting knob-ons over every little thing, but boy if you didn’t prove me fucking wrong.”

Rose giggled just a little and stroked her fist up and down his cock idly, just because she loved touching him. He sucked in a little gasp when she ran her thumb over the tip, but his eyes never wavered from her face. 

“You know I’m terrified of what you think of me, too, right?”

She looked up at him then, surprised. “You’re what?”

“It’s true. I’m scared to fucking death every time we take off our clothes, wondering what you’re going to think of me. I’m forty-six, Rose, and I look every day of it. I was never a fucking adonis, but things have…” He looked down at himself and gestured at his torso. “ _Deteriorated_ a bit since my twenties. Not to mention the fact that I put on weight while you were pregnant. You’re goddamn gorgeous, could have any man you want. Why would you want a grey-haired, out of shape git like me?”

“I think you’re dead sexy,” she said, adding a little twist onto her stroke. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

She nodded, completely sincere. “Yeah. I love you, Ian. You could have a potbelly or scars or something like that and I’d still think you’re bloody gorgeous.”

Ian gave her a smug, knowing look. “Seems we feel the same.”

Rose blinked, caught off guard, then her face relaxed into a smile. “Yeah. Seems we do.”

He dipped his head, also grinning, and kissed her smile. She did her best to ramp up the intensity, scratching through the hair at the back of his head with her nails, but Ian didn’t take the bait. After a few minutes of a slow, smoldering kiss, he broke away and stood up, taking a couple of steps back into the spray, pulling Rose with him. 

“Come into the water with me, sweetheart.”

Biting her lip, she stepped into the spray, leaning her head back and letting the water rinse through her hair. She was surprised when she heard a click and turned to see Ian squirting some of her shampoo into his hands. He just smiled gently when she raised an eyebrow at him and told her to step out of the water for a second. 

She did, and he started massaging the shampoo into her hair. Rose groaned - it felt _so good_ , and Ian chuckled. She felt his lips pressing against her shoulders, leaving little kisses there, and she arched her back a little to grind her bum against his cock. He made a little noise when she did and she smirked when he grumbled, “Behave, minx.”

Entirely too soon he led her back into the spray and gently massaged the shampoo out. She turned around when he was done and wiped the water out of her eyes, then saw that he had a flannel and soap, lathering it up. Rose took advantage of the opportunity to step into his arms and run her hands over his chest, feeling his skin under her fingertips, noticing freckles and other little blemishes that she may have missed in the dark. Before very long she slid her hands around his waist, pulling his body against hers, trapping his erection between them. 

Ian gasped a little, and she flexed her fingers in the skin of his back while she dragged her lips across his bare chest, laying soft kisses on the skin she could reach. 

“What are you doing, sweetheart?” His voice sounded a little strangled and she was terribly proud of that. 

“What I intended to do when I came in here. I want to explore my bloke a bit. Haven’t had much of a chance, but I do now. I’m taking the opportunity.”

She pressed her body against his a little then rolled up on her toes, kissing along his collarbone, loving the feel of his cock sliding against her belly. His hands were at her waist, gripping her tight, and she smiled against his skin. It felt like he was grasping for control, and she rather liked that. But she wanted to make him lose it. 

“Ian?” she murmured against his skin, her hands still roaming his back, sliding down to trace over his bum. 

“Yeah?” He sounded strangled and she was proud. 

“Do you still worry whether or not I think you’re sexy?”

“Always. Every day. I can’t imagine ever _not_ worrying, sweetheart.”

Rose took his hand in hers and tugged him a little, nipping and kissing the skin of his neck when he bent lower, bringing his hand between her legs. Using her fingers she guided him, letting him feel the moisture there that had nothing to do with the shower. His fingers started trailing through her wetness and he groaned. Then she nibbled his earlobe and whispered, “Does _that_ feel like I don’t find you to be the sexiest man alive?”

He let out a rough little sound and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her flush against him. His cock was like steel against her belly, but she didn’t have time to do anything about it before he’d claimed her mouth. His tongue sought hers out and she surrendered to the conquest at once. Her hand ran through the wet curls atop his head, loving the way they felt between her fingers. Her nails scraped his scalp lightly and he growled. She grinned against his lips and he broke away, only to start trailing kisses along her jaw, towards her neck. She smiled at the ceiling before closing her eyes and biting her lip, concentrating on the feel of him against her.

His fingers slid up the inside of her thigh until he reached the place that was throbbing for him. He parted her folds gently but with purpose, and she expected him to start rubbing her clit. He surprised her, though, when she felt his fingers circling her entrance. She rolled her hips against his hand, whispering ‘please’, and he released her nipple to come up and kiss her sloppily. Her mouth was still entangled with his when she felt one finger slide inside her, and she gave a cry.

“Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head vigorously and Ian pumped the finger in and out while Rose clung to him. It felt _so good_... then he pulled it out and slid it back into her heat with a second finger.

Rose let loose a guttural groan, completely involuntary. He fucked her slowly with his hand, his face buried in her neck, both of them breathing heavily. She reached between them and wrapped her hand around his cock, causing Ian to inhale sharply. She started stroking him at the same rhythm he was pumping her, and relished the way he thrust into her palm. 

“I want to taste you,” he said finally, surprising Rose. “Can I?”

“What about you?”

“I’m not worried about me. I need to fucking taste you. It’s been weeks.”

“Can I return the favor?” She twisted her wrist a little and ran her thumb over the head of his cock. He shuddered and she smiled. “I want to taste you, too.”

“Yeah, yeah. Fuck yeah,” he agreed. “But you first.”

She wasn’t able to say anything else before he was kneeling in front of her, watching himself plunge his fingers in and out of her. The look on his face as he contemplated what he saw before him was intense, serious, and sexy as hell. She wanted to tell him so, wanted to tell him how much she loved him, how good he made her feel, but before she could he leaned forward and put his mouth on her. Rose gasped at the sensation, one hand going to his head, the other braced against the wall to support her.

Ian’s tongue meandered, lapping around the place his fingers fucked her, exploring her folds almost leisurely, finally coming to her clit. He didn’t lick her directly, the damn tease, but stiffened his tongue into a point and circled it. She whimpered, tugging his hair when she clenched her fist, and he moaned against her sex. The gentle vibrations caught her off-guard, and she gasped.

“Ian!”

He didn’t answer, he was still busy driving her mad. His fingers and tongue now coordinated in their effort make her lose control. Unable to stop herself, she started rolling her hips forward, trying to get _more_ of the bliss he was giving her. She groaned, eyes closed and head thrown back, all but lost to the sensation of him fucking her with his mouth and fingers. 

“Ian...I’m gonna come...I’m close…”

He ratcheted up his efforts, hauling her leg over his shoulder and clutching her hip, keeping her a little more still. Rose babbled, not even sure of what she was actually saying, but it didn’t matter. 

She was just about to beg him, to promise him anything if he would just let her come, when he curled his fingers and pressed them against the front wall, still licking her. She flew apart, howling her pleasure and how much she loved him, pleading for something unknown, her entire world simultaneously exploding into a shower of sparks and focusing down to where he touched her.


	85. Chapter 85

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to SelenaTerna for Italian translation help! xoxo - we love you! 
> 
> This chapter picks up immediately where the last one left off. ;)

6 June, 2012 (cont)

Ian worked her through her orgasm, still impaling her with his fingers, and every flick of his tongue sent another shudder through her. It was so good - too good - and she began pushing at him saying, “no, please… no more.”

He got to his feet while she was still panting for air, and without a word, he pulled her into his arms. Rose circled his waist, holding him to her, knowing he was everything she needed, loving him more than she could ever express. The gentle touch of his hands sliding over her back gave her mild aftershocks, and Ian chuckled into her hair.

“That was alright, then?”

“That was unbelievable. You’re amazing.”

Ian didn’t say anything to the praise, just chuckled again and kissed the top of her hair. She turned her face up to meet his and he kissed her, taking his time. Rose was floating in a post-orgasmic bliss, everything but the man she was leaning against forgotten. Well, the man and his very large, rather insistent erection that was pressing into her abdomen. She wanted him, but knew without doubt that he would be reluctant to make love to her so soon after giving birth. He could be seduced, though, she was sure of it. Within seconds, a plan fell into place. Smiling a little to herself, she pressed a kiss to his tattoo and wrapped her hand around his cock, pumping it gently while she looked up into his eyes. 

“Ian?” she asked innocently.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Did you wank before we finally got together?”

His cheeks reddened, but he didn’t break eye contact. “Sometimes.”

She kept stroking him, but let her lips curl into a seductive smile. “Did you think of me when you did?”

The flush above his beard darkened, and he finally looked away. “Maybe.”

A little chuckle escaped Rose and she added a twist onto her stroke, sliding her thumb over the head. “Can I take that as a yes?”

“Yeah,” he croaked, eyes closed and head tilted back a little. 

Without warning, she released his cock. “Show me.”

Ian stared at her with wide eyes. “What?”

“Show me. I want to see how you touched yourself when you thought of me. I want to watch.”

“Sweetheart --”

“I’ll show you,” she volunteered, using her newly-free hand to trace little patterns on his neck and around his ear. 

Ian stammered. “Sh - show me what?”

Rose smirked. “How I touched myself when I was alone and thought of you.” It took a tremendous amount of effort not to giggle at the astounded look on Ian’s face, but she had a plan and had to stick with it. So she continued, “You see, for a long time, on the nights when you weren’t sharing a bed with me, I’d lie there and think about you. I’d smell you on the sheets and pretend you were there touching me, kissing me.” She threaded her fingers through his hair again and kissed his tattoo. “I’d imagine what it would feel like if you ran your hands and lips all over me…” Ian’s eyes followed her hand intently when it left the back of his head and went to her breast, pinching the nipple a little, squeezing her own flesh. “And I’d imagine what it would feel like if you fucked me, too.” She slid her hand downwards until it was at the junction of her thighs, Ian’s eyes following the whole way. Making her move, she took a step back until she was against the shower wall and put her hand over her mound, sliding two fingers between her lips and rubbing herself. His eyes were wide, intent, and Rose bit her lip when she saw how they blazed. The moan she let loose wasn’t entirely for show. 

As she’d hoped, Ian’s hand went to his cock and he started pumping it at the same rhythm she was touching herself. She bit her lip on a triumphant smile, but she hadn’t won yet. Not quite. 

“Do you like watching me?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, his eyes intent on her disappearing and reappearing fingers. 

“I like watching you, too,” she confessed, rolling her head back against the tile of the shower. “Does that feel good?”

“Yeah,” he repeated, and she would have giggled but she couldn’t take her eyes off the rise and fall of his hand. She’d never thought a cock was beautiful before, but his _was_ and his long, slender fingers around it just enhanced its beauty. A bead of precome appeared on the tip and she licked her lips, imagining its taste.

Ian murmured in Italian, “ _Sei così fottutamente fantastica ... e sei mia_.”

Rose snapped, bringing both hands up to grip his head, pulling him to her and kissing him with abandon. He gripped her sides, pulling her flush to him, trapping his erection between them. It still wasn’t close enough; even now that there was no baby in her belly between them, it wasn’t enough. She wanted to feel every inch of his skin against hers, and nothing less would do. Rose was wild for him - despite her recent orgasm - driven by lust and need that could only be satisfied by him. 

“It makes me insane when you speak Italian,” she confessed. “I’ve never heard anything sexier than that.”

Ian released the place he’d been sucking on her neck, almost certainly leaving a mark, and she felt his lips curl against her skin. “ _Ti piace quando parlo in italiano, amore?_ ” he murmured, and Rose shuddered.

“I have no idea what you said, but you can feel free to keep talking to me like that.” 

He smirked against her neck, then pressed a kiss there and drew back so he could look in her eyes. They were more green than she’d ever seen before, swirling with heat, and she was grateful he had her pinned to the wall or she may have collapsed. Still smirking, he brought his face very close to hers and bumped her nose with his, his voice just above a whisper. “ _Dimmi, bellissima. Dimmi quello che vuoi_.”

Rose wrapped one leg around his, bringing his cock closer to where she wanted it, and ground herself against the top of his thigh. “Please, Ian…”

“Tell me what you want, Rose,” he pleaded between kisses all over her face, gripping her bum. 

“I want you to fuck me.”

She felt him shrink a little when she said it, and was unsurprised when he said, “Sweetheart, we can’t.”

“We _can_ ,” she insisted. 

“It’s too soon. Your body isn’t ready.”

“I swear to God, my body is as ready as it’s ever been. And I want you, Ian.”

“Sweetheart --”

Rose covered his protesting mouth with a finger. “Let me try something. And if you still don’t want to after I’m done, we won’t. But I’ve got a tenner says I can talk you into it.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re on.”

“And you’re going to do what I tell you?”

“God,” he groaned. “Have to admit I’m a little scared of that thought, sweetheart.”

She gave him her sweetest smile. “Trust me, Ian. Just do what I say. Promise?”

Ian kissed her sweetly. “ _Lo prometto, tesoro_.”

A thrill shot all through Rose. She wasn’t sure what he’d said, but she was fairly sure she’d won the battle. In celebration, she started placing little, open-mouth kisses along his chest and collarbones, sliding her hands over the wet skin of his back. Ian laid his head back, letting her do as she wished, and she wanted to drop to her knees right that moment. Instead, she started kissing on his neck, letting one hand come back around to circle his cock and start pumping.

“I love you,” she told him. “So much.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart.”

“And I want to show you,” she said against his skin, still pumping him. 

“What do - what do you want to do?” he asked, sounding a bit strangled. 

“It’s what I want _you_ to do,” she purred. “I want you to fuck my mouth.”

“ _Jesus_ ,” Ian groaned, rolling his head back. 

“Here’s the plan. I’m going to get down on my knees and take your cock into my mouth. Then you’re going to fuck me - but don’t come. You’re going to save that for when you’re buried inside me, fucking me for real.”

“You’re awful _fucking_ confident,” he told her, making her grin.

“I am,” she agreed. “I know what my bloke likes. Do we have a deal?”

He nodded at once and Rose kissed him messily. When she backed away from him, she smiled, then started to sink to her knees. Within moments, she was eye level with her hand circling his cock, an absolutely mouth-watering sight. Rose darted her tongue out to catch the drop of precome that had been taunting her. His flavor exploded across her tongue and she didn’t wait another second, opening her mouth and taking him in. 

Ian cried out in pleasure but Rose didn’t acknowledge him. She bobbed her head on him for a moment, warming up, before putting her hands on his hips and guiding him gently. Within a few strokes, he was thrusting into her mouth. She did her best to be a passive receptacle for him, loving his shallow plunges into her mouth. She’d have smiled smugly had she been able to. Instead, she just swirled her tongue around the tip and looked up at him from beneath her lashes. His eyes were closed in concentration and he leaned forward to brace himself against the shower wall. He seemed lost to sensation and that was fantastic, but Rose wanted to make him lose his mind utterly. 

Satisfied for the moment with his hip movements, she brought one hand up to fondle his bollocks, knowing he liked when she played with them. She rolled them around, squeezing and pulling gently, enjoying the sound of his moan. She moaned around him as well, knowing it drove him wild. As she’d hoped, he brought one hand down from the wall to fist tightly in her hair. 

She let go of his bollocks and gripped his hips, encouraging him, hoping he’d go deeper, savoring the way he seemed to be speeding up and thrusting harder into her mouth - losing control. Rose did her best to open her throat and take him as deep as she could, an action which made Ian groan loudly. A giggle bubbled up and she pulled off for a second to let it escape, working him with her hand. 

“You’re going to wake the baby.”

“What baby?” he asked in a strangled voice with his head rocked back on his shoulders. 

Rose smirked and took him in her mouth again, stroking him with her tongue a few times before she opened her throat once more. He moaned again but she didn’t admonish him this time, just used his sounds and babbling to guide her, as well as the tension of his fist in her hair. The tighter he gripped her, the deeper she took him and harder she sucked. 

“Sweetheart,” he said brokenly. “Sweetheart, I’m going to come. I’m - _Jesus_ \- I’m close.”

Without giving him time to think, Rose rocketed to her feet in front of him and kissed him wildly, delighting in the way he clutched at her desperately, his hands seeming unable to decide what they wanted to touch. She stroked his cock gently, lightly, keeping him on edge as best she could while her tongue battled with his. 

“I want you to fuck me, Ian,” she told him when she broke away, and he whimpered. 

“Sweetheart --”

“I’m sure. I want you to fuck me. Now.” To emphasize her point, she hooked one leg over his hip, placing his cock very near her heat and guided the tip to rub against her clit. “I’m so wet, Ian. I need you.”

Between kisses and nips to her collarbone, he managed to get out, “I could hurt you.”

“You won’t. I’ll make you stop if it’s bad. Please, Ian.”

He attacked her mouth again and Rose continued to tease herself with him, whimpering a little from the sensation against her bud. When he took a break from devouring her, he breathed, ‘yeah’ and that was all Rose needed. She settled the head of his cock in at her entrance and let go of the shaft, wrapping her arms around him and pressing forward a little. He met her efforts, bending his knees and tightening his bum under Rose’s hands, pushing into her slowly. 

Rose was grateful that Ian couldn’t see her face because, despite her bravado, his entry _was_ somewhat painful. She dug her nails into his shoulders and buried her face in his neck, biting her lip. When he was buried as far as he could go, he stopped.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked tenderly, his voice shaking - as well as the flesh under Rose’s hands. Rose simply shook her head in the crook of his shoulder, still biting her lip. It would get better, it _was_ getting better, she just needed to --

Ian ducked his head backwards to see her face. “Sweetheart?”

“I’m alright,” she said in a low voice, smiling to reassure him. 

“Do you want me to stop?” 

For an instant, she thought about telling him ‘yes’, but shook her head vehemently. “No. It only hurt for a second when you were pushing in, not now. Now I’m just waiting for you. I want you.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded. “I’m sure. Don’t stop.”

“I’ll be gentle,” Ian assured her, pulling himself out of her then sliding back in slowly. He rained kisses on her shoulder and hiked her leg up higher. “I’ll be so gentle with you, sweetheart…”

“I hope not,” she countered, only half joking. He pumped into her slowly again, then again, and Rose felt that familiar sensation in the marrow of her bones, that feeling she’d had every time she made love to this man, that need for completion with Ian - no one but Ian. 

“It doesn’t hurt anymore,” she told him honestly. “Please, don’t hold back…”

He bit her shoulder and sped up, thrusting harder and faster while Rose clutched him. It was brilliant, fantastic, but it still wasn’t enough. Rose wanted more. So she turned her head so she could nibble his ear and whisper filth into it; dirty thoughts she’d had about him and secret fantasies she wanted him to fulfill. He muttered and groaned but did as she’d hoped, fucking her against the shower wall single-mindedly. 

“Ian,” she whimpered. “God, yes...”

“I love you,” he professed breathlessly, speeding up a little. 

“I love you, too.” He adjusted her leg a bit, tilting her hips a little and oh, God, he was hitting her clit with every stroke now and that was fucking _brilliant_. “Yes, _fuck_ , more, please, that’s perfect…”

Ever eager to please, he went even harder and Rose cried out. Within seconds she was teetering on the brink of bliss and told him so. 

“Ian, I’m close, I’m going to come…”

Too late. She detonated around him, ecstacy screaming from every cell of her body. Her blood caught fire and the entire universe focused to one point - where he joined with her. He kept fucking her, grinding himself against the epicenter of her pleasure, intensifying everything. She was helpless to do anything but wail and cling to him like a lifeline until she felt him shudder against her with an “ _oh, fuck_ ” and he emptied himself into her, stopping his thrusts. 

The wall was against her back and Ian was pressed against her front, propping her up. She was terribly grateful for the support because she wasn’t sure her legs could hold her. Both of them panted for air and Rose’s entire body tingled, especially where her skin met his. He released her leg and the movement of her clit against him triggered an aftershock, making her bite her lip and whimper as she put her foot down. Ian sought out her face again, kissing her softly, thoroughly, and she looked up into his blue eyes when he pulled away. 

“You don’t seem out of shape to me,” she remarked with her tongue touching her teeth. 

Ian snorted, then his eyes grew serious. “We shouldn’t have done that.”

Rose cocked an eyebrow. “Are you sorry?”

“No! No, no, fuck no, I could never be sorry about making love to you, just…” He cupped her cheek. “Are you alright, sweetheart?”

Rose chuckled. “Mmm. So much better than alright. You. Are. _Amazing_ ,” she praised him. 

Ian smirked, but bent down and kissed the tip of her nose. “I have an amazing fiancée.” 

She didn’t think she was anything terribly special but wasn’t about to debate him, she was entirely too blissed out. So she told him the truest thing she knew. “I love you, Ian Docherty.”

“I love you too, Rose.”

They held each other for a few more moments, kissing occasionally with hands roaming each other’s bodies slowly, unwilling to separate. When they finally did - with a lingering kiss - Ian stepped back into the spray, pulling Rose with him so she could clean up. He lathered the flannel and, with a smirk, started washing her. Rose didn’t protest, she just smirked back - and jumped a little when he went over a still-sensitive area. 

“We can’t do this again, sweetheart,”

“Do what? Shower together?” she asked, still flirting with her bloke.

“No, we can’t make love again. Not yet.”

Rose scoffed. “Of course we can! We just did!”

“But we shouldn’t have,” he said seriously, stopping what he was doing. “I could have hurt you or damaged you - possibly permanently. Or I could have gotten you pregnant.”

“I’m breastfeeding.”

“That’s not foolproof. Your hormones are still out of whack. It’s very possible.”

She was quiet for a second, contemplating the tradeoff of having sex with Ian whenever she wanted with another pregnancy.

He kissed her nose. “It’s not long, sweetheart. Only two weeks. We can make it. We’ve gone months before, right?”

Rose sighed, feeling very put-out all of the sudden. “I guess so.”

Ian chuckled and started washing her again, gently. “Did you read the whole article?”

“I skimmed it,” she said, shivering when the flannel passed over her breasts again. She was sure they were clean but would rather die than interrupt his caressing her. “Did I miss anything?”

“Jacinda seemed to have gotten the impression that when you and I first met and dated briefly, we slept together and that’s when Eleanor was conceived. She doesn’t say so directly, but that’s the implication she made in the article.”

“Well?”

“Sweetheart…”

“What?”

“My family is going to read that.”

Rose didn’t understand the problem. “And?”

“I don’t want to give them the wrong impression. You didn’t jump from one relationship to another and there’s no fucking reason for them to think that.” 

“It would explain how Eleanor’s yours. She’s going to look just like you, I just know it. Already headed that way.”

He swelled with pride, making Rose grin. Then he sobered. “I don’t want them to think badly of you.”

“I don’t think they will,” she said, then rubbed her hands in a circle on his chest. “Give them a little credit.”

“What if they bring it up?”

“Then we’ll handle it. I don’t care if they think I slept with you, Ian. It’s a lie of omission to let them believe that - a lie I’m proud to tell.” 

“Rose…”

“Would you like to tell them the truth?” she asked, genuinely curious. “If you think they’d believe, I’ll do that.”

“No, no,” he shook his head, then sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “Letting them believe that we slept together really is the best option, isn’t it?”

“I think so, handsome.” He sighed again and she slid her arms around his waist, loving the feel of his body against hers. “It’ll be alright, Ian. I don’t think their opinion of me will change, but if it _does_ , I have forever to change it back. To prove what I’m made of and how devoted I am to you. Yeah?”

Ian groaned frustratedly and put his arms around Rose’s shoulders loosely. “Little minx. Before you came along, I was always right. Now I don’t know my arse from a hole in the ground.”

Rose gave him a cheeky look, her tongue between her teeth, and gripped his bum. “Here’s your arse. My favorite arse in the world, by the way.”

“You’re a wisearse.”

“Your wisearse.”

“Damned straight.”


	86. Chapter 86

8 June 2012

Ian couldn’t help but smile when they walked across the tarmac towards the airport lobby, thinking of the last time he’d brought Rose home to see his family and how much that trip had changed his life. He almost felt like a conquering hero, having won the war for Rose’s affections. 

He spotted Fergus as soon as they stepped into the lobby, his red hair a beacon standing out several inches above the people around him. Ian’s smile brightened and he looked over at Rose excitedly, tugging her hand a little. She adjusted the nappy bag on her shoulder and the two quickened their step across the lobby. 

“Fergus!” Ian exclaimed happily upon getting close enough, and his cousin’s smile was as big as his. Ian hurriedly sat Eleanor’s carrier down and threw his arms around Fergus, squeezing tight and thumping him on the back. “Good to see you, ye twat.”

“Good to see you, bawbag. And here’s Birdie!” Fergus burst out when he let Ian go, then swept a laughing Rose up into a hug and twirled her around. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, you are. But enough of you lot,” he said with a dismissive wave, “I want to see my wee niece.” He bent down a little and Ian lifted the carrier again, pulling the blanket off that had been covering her. Eleanor was awake and looked around the newly-revealed surroundings, her blue eyes landing on her uncle. 

“Look at that,” he cooed. “Bonniest baby I’ve ever seen in my long life.” He straightened and looked at Ian, still grinning. “We have to make a stop on the way to Mam’s.”

“For what?”

“I have to show her off to the boys at work. They’ll never have seen something so beautiful.”

“You’re not taking my four-week-old daughter to a filthy fucking warehouse, you prat.”

“Oi! It’s not filthy!”

“Aren’t you the one always going on about fucking sanitizer and washed hands? Have you taken leave of what senses you have left?”

Fergus opened his mouth to retort but Rose cut in smoothly. “I’m rather tired, Fergus, and I’d like to go to Auntie’s, if we could. But in a couple of months, after we’re all more rested and used to the new sleeping schedule, I’m sure we can arrange to bring her to your work. Besides, she’ll be more fun then.”

“That sounds just fine,” Fergus agreed, and Ian threw his arm around Rose. His sweetheart, the diplomat.

“Did you get the car seat base I told you to?” Ian asked anxiously. 

“I did, and installed it myself. Then, to be safe, I took it to the fire brigade and had them check it.”

“Good lad,” Ian said, clapping him on the shoulder. “But enough fucking yammering in the lobby. Let’s get our stuff and head to Auntie’s.”

~*~O~*~

Auntie was sitting on the porch when they pulled into the drive. His impulse was to run to her and engulf her in a hug, but, of course, he had other women he was responsible for now. So he just grinned at her while he unfastened his seat belt and hopped out to go help Rose and get the baby. By the time he finished, Auntie was beside him, hugging Rose.

“Welcome back, Rose dear,” she said. “It’s been too long.”

“It’s only been three weeks since we’ve seen you, Auntie,” Ian smiled. “And we’ve been sending pictures to your email.”

“Not enough. Graham has been showing me the pictures you send him on his mobile. He gets more than I do. Let me see that girl.”

Ian uncovered the carrier again and Auntie bent down to see the baby. “Look at her wee face. Absolutely beautiful, she is. Looks more than a bit like her father.” 

He exchanged a glance with Rose, but Auntie didn’t notice. She was busy taking the carrier from his hand. 

“Come on, then, if you’re coming. Need to get this wee girl inside and out of the sun.” 

Fergus followed obediently, probably eager to get his hands on Eleanor, and Ian took the bag from Rose’s shoulder before he put his arm around her and led her inside. Once they got in the door, Ian was unsurprised but pleased to see Auntie pulling Eleanor from the carrier and cuddling her, bouncing in place a little. 

“Oi, Mam, did you wash your hands?”

“When I heard you lot pull into the drive,” she answered, unconcerned. “How was your flight?” she asked politely without looking up from the baby. 

“Not bad,” Ian said, setting the bag down in the chair and plopping onto the couch, pulling Rose down beside him. “A bit choppy.”

“Shame Eleanor didn’t have a better first flight,” Fergus remarked dryly, sitting down in one of the chairs. 

“I doubt she’ll remember it,” Rose said, then muttered, “Heaven knows I wish I couldn’t remember it.”

Ian snorted and squeezed her shoulders. He knew it had been a bumpy trip for her but, as always, his sweetheart was so brave. 

“Mam mentioned that she’s been looking at pictures of the wee bairn on my mobile. I’ve been over here every other day showing her, it seems. But she didn’t tell you that I’ve been trying to talk her into getting one of her own.”

“A baby?” Ian asked, confused. 

Fergus snorted. “No, you twit. A mobile so she can _see_ the baby.”

“Oi, ease up in the insults there, ye nimnole. We’ve a newborn. There hasn’t been an uninterrupted night of sleep since Rose’s water broke. We’re exhausted.”

“You’re supposed to be used to that, being on call all the time as you are,” Fergus fired back. “Or are you just too old to keep up?”

Ian leaned forward, his mouth open and ready to engage, but without looking up, Auntie said, “Boys” in _that tone_ , and he settled right back down without anymore fight. Fergus gave him a smug look and, after seeing that Auntie was busy settling herself into her seat with Eleanor, Ian shot him two fingers. Rose snickered. 

“As I was saying, I’m having a devil of a time talking her into it. She seems determined to stick with that ancient desktop computer and her landline.”

“Why would I need a phone I can take anywhere? It’s just one more thing to take up space in my bag.”

“I think you’d use it more than you think you would, Auntie,” Ian said sincerely. “I didn’t think I would use mine as much as I do. Rose and I talk to each other on it all the time, with text messages. And Fergus is right, we could send you pictures of the baby. Besides that, we could teach you to FaceTime.”

“Face time?”

“Yes,” Fergus volunteered. “FaceTime is video chatting, Mam. The two of you could talk and _see_ each other in real time. I hadn’t thought of that, Ian, that’s a good point.”

“Thank you. And we’d be able to show you the baby in real time, too, Auntie. She’ll be more… interactive in the next few weeks.”

Auntie finally looked up at her boys and gave them a look. “You two aren’t going to rest until I have an expensive, fancy mobile, are you?”

Ian’s “Probably not” overlapped with Fergus’ “Nope,” and Rose snickered again. 

“We can take you today to pick one out,” Fergus volunteered. “It would be our pleasure.”

“We’ll see,” Auntie said in that tone that Ian knew meant she was putting him off. “Seems like the little miss here is waking up.”

Rose sprung into action. “I’ll take her, Auntie,” she volunteered, getting to her feet and going over to Auntie. “She probably needs a change and I need to feed her, too. Ian?” she asked, turning to him once she got the baby in her arms. “Will you bring the nappy bag up to your room?”

“You don’t have to go that far, dear, you can feed and change her in my room. There’s a rocking chair in there that’s plenty comfy, and my bed will make a good changing table. Here,” Auntie continued. “I’ll walk you in there. We’ll have a bit of girl time, just the three of us. Without these boys.”

Rose giggled and nodded. “Thank you. Girl time would be nice.”

Auntie grabbed the nappy bag and beckoned Rose to follow. Ian watched her go, taking in the curve of her bum under her long skirt and --

Something hit him upside the head. 

“ _Ow!_ ” Ian yelped, then lowered his voice so he wouldn’t be overheard. “What the fuck was that for?”

“You looked like a starving bloke looking at a fine meal. Really, Ian, has it been that long since you and she…?” Ian felt his cheeks heat a little and Fergus smirked. “I see that it hasn’t.”

“My sex life with my fiancée is not your business, ye twat.”

“If that’s so, maybe you shouldn’t be eye-shagging her in the parlor.”

“I was not!”

“Were so. It’s a good thing looks can’t get someone pregnant, or you’d have another bairn on the way.”

_That_ was a thought that hadn’t left Ian’s mind since they’d made love in the shower. It would be very easy for Rose to get pregnant right now, while everything was still so irregular. It’s not that he wouldn’t _welcome_ another baby, but… Well, he had to admit that the thought of Irish twins was a bit unsettling. 

Fergus looked towards the door that Auntie and Rose had exited, making sure they were gone, then leaned forward a little. “I want to talk to you, Ian.”

“We’ve been talking.”

“Seriously. Let’s go unload the car, eh?”

Dread shot all through him, but he got to his feet silently, following his cousin out the front door. Once they were far enough away from the house, Fergus slowed his walk and put his hands in his pockets. 

“You know, last time you were here, you were pretty damned adamant that Eleanor wasn’t your daughter.”

“I was wrong,” Ian said, not looking at Fergus and wishing the conversation would just die. 

“She looks just like you, Ian.”

“I know.”

“Is she yours?”

“Yes.”

“By blood?”

“Yes. She’s my daughter in every way.”

They came to a stop beside Fergus’ blue car. “I’m assuming there was doubt.” 

Ian looked his cousin dead in the eye and told the misleading truth. “I didn’t want to get my hopes up that she could be mine. Can you imagine if I had gone all that time believing that little girl could be my daughter, only to find out she wasn’t?”

“Rose wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Rose _didn’t_ do that to me. The other man was dead and there was a question what Eleanor’s DNA would show. She credited him as the biological father to spare my feelings until she had evidence.”

Fergus raised an eyebrow. “So you had a DNA test?”

_Shit_. He’d really hoped to get through this without outright lying. 

“The other man had a… genetic disorder. Testing was required to make sure that nothing was wrong with Eleanor, and they discovered in the course of testing that I was, in fact, her father.” Irritated with the lie, he snapped, “What difference does it make, anyway? I would have been her father no matter what some fucking lab work showed. I’m the one who’s going to raise her, love her, and take care of her. Besides, you said yourself - she looks just like me. I’m Daddy, end of story. She’s mine.”

Fergus seemed to take this in for a second, then nodded. “What about the other man?”

“What about him?”

“It’s a narrow time window from him to you…”

Ian held up a threatening finger “Don’t. Don’t you fucking dare judge her. Rose is not some fucking slag.”

“Calm down, Ian, I’d never say so.”

“Really? Because I remember you telling me once before, many years ago, that my fiancée was no good, and this feels an awful lot like that time.”

Fergus shook his head. “No. This is nothing like that. I think Rose is the best thing that ever happened to you. And it even makes sense that she would seek comfort so soon after someone she cared about died. I just want to make sure she’s _completely over_ the dead bloke before she marries you.”

“Rose and I are solid. We’re happy. We’re a family. What fucking fairytales are made of.”

Ian was caught off guard when Fergus pulled him into a hug, but didn’t resist. “I just want to make sure you’re okay, ye dipshit. You’re my brother and I love you. Your happiness is important to me.”

“I am happy,” Ian said, hugging Fergus back fiercely. “I’ve never been happier. And I’m not young and dumb. I know what to watch for.”

“Well, you’re certainly not young, but you are dumb as shite,” Fergus retorted, pulling back and smiling at his cousin. Ian didn’t bother to fire back at him. “C’mon. Let’s get your bags in the house so when Rose gets done, Uncle Graham can have a turn with the wee lass.”

~*~O~*~

“So when is the wedding?”

Ian gave his smirking cousin a quick glare from across the table, then glanced over to see Rose flushing beside him. 

“We haven’t got anything set in stone yet,” he told them, “but it’s looking like 24 November.”

“An autumn wedding?” Auntie asked with a raised eyebrow. “Any particular reason for the date?”

“It was a milestone in our relationship,” Rose volunteered, surprising Ian. “I started to realize just what he meant to me on that weekend last year.”

“We don’t want to wait too long to be married,” Ian spoke up. “And if we did it on the anniversary of when we met, we’d share an anniversary with Pete and Jackie.”

“Well, no, I suppose you wouldn’t want that,” Auntie allowed. “Have you started planning anything?”

“Not yet. Mum has a wedding planner she wants us to meet with this coming week.”

“Are you having a big wedding?”

“Whatever my sweetheart wants,” Ian said, smiling at her.

It was Rose’s turn to snort. “He means whatever my mum will let me have.” 

“Your mum is running the show, hmm?”

“No, she just thinks she is. Actually, Auntie, I wanted to talk to you about honoring Ian’s heritage at the wedding. I’m sure you can help me with the Scottish side, and I can do research about the Italian side.” She hesitated. “We - we haven’t talked about any of this yet… haven’t had time, really…”

Rose glanced over at Ian nervously and he just stared at her, agog. It had never crossed his mind to include anything from his heritage in what he presumed would be a traditional English wedding. He couldn’t help but think that Jenn would never have done such a thing - his heritage had meant nothing to her. She’d even insisted on him wearing trousers instead of his tartan. But where he came from _meant_ something to Rose. It was one of the many things that made her so different and so wonderful. 

She still looked uncertain and Ian reached over to grab her hand and pull it to his lips, kissing her as she flushed. “Thank you,” he whispered, heedless of anyone else at the table, knowing that his sweetheart would understand. 

“You’re welcome,” she breathed, flushing.

“I can certainly help you with a few Scottish traditions to include, but I can also tell you what I remember of the Italian traditions Isabel wanted. I remember she wanted Thomas to pick the flowers, saying they were meant to be a gift from her husband. Similar to a Scottish sark, which they also did. And they gave out candy-covered nuts as a wedding favor.”

“Nuts?” Ian asked, hungry for information about his parents. 

“Almonds of some sort,” Auntie confirmed. “They were meant to represent the bittersweet nature of marriage, if I remember correctly.”

Just then, Eleanor began to cry from the next room, prompting everyone at the table to move to stand. 

“I’ve got it,” Fergus said, getting to his feet first. “I’m done with dinner, and that sounds like an ‘I need my Uncle Graham’ cry to me.” 

Ian snorted, but sat back down. 

“You lot go on with discussing the blessed event,” Fergus threw over his shoulder on the way out the door. “I’ve got the baby.”

Ian watched his cousin go with just the tiniest flicker of concern. Fergus had shown himself to be capable of caring for her so far. Besides, they’d only be in the next room. He knew where the bag with the bottles was, and, really, Ian was grateful that he was giving Rose a break. She deserved it. 

He turned his attention back to the conversation, which had drifted to Scottish traditions and was therefore slightly less interesting to him. Rose seemed to get more and more excited as the conversation went on, and Ian was pleased. He wanted her to have a good time planning this wedding. It should be a joyful event for her, from beginning to end. 

But after ten minutes, dinner was over and his attention was waning. The women chattered about something to do with attendant gifts, he had no clue, and he was craving some other conversation - one that included him. So he excused himself, cleared the plates and put them in the sink, then went to retrieve Eleanor and claim the couch. He smirked a little to himself at the thought. That very well may be heaven. 

Eleanor wasn’t in her carrier, so Ian went to check Auntie’s bedroom, to see if Fergus was still feeding her. As he passed the lounge, he spotted his dipshit cousin out of the corner of his eye, lying on the couch with his ankles crossed, a tiny pink bundle snoozing on his chest. 

“Oi!”

Fergus wasn’t the least bit surprised, in fact, he smirked with his eyes closed. “Aye?”

“You’re cheating!”

He turned to look at Ian. “I am not. And that’s rich, coming from you. Now haud yer weesht.” Fergus turned his head back and closed his eyes again with a smile. “The wee bairn is sleeping.”

Ian grumbled, but sank into Auntie’s recliner just the same. Fergus gave a smug chuckle and patted the baby’s back. He didn’t want to, but Ian was forced to admit that his brother holding his daughter was a heartwarming sight. Fergus was still a twat, though. 

“Always wanted a bairn,” Fergus said, shocking Ian.

“You _what_?”

“Always wanted kids,” he repeated. “Never got around to it. I suppose it’s too late now. You’re a lucky man, Ian.”

He felt a pang of sadness. Ian was only a father due to a miracle, chances were not good that lightning would strike twice in the same family and make Fergus a father, too. But his cousin was right, he was an exceptionally lucky man, and well he knew it.


	87. Chapter 87

9 June 2012

Ian and Rose were up with the baby well before Auntie’s usual waking time and Fergus wasn’t expected until eight or so, so Ian decided to make breakfast for everyone while they waited. Rose sat in a chair at the kitchen table with Eleanor and the two adults chatted pleasantly while Ian fried up the food. 

“So I hear this wedding planner can be a bit… opinionated,” Rose began. 

He turned around and raised one eyebrow at her. “Isn’t it her job to take _our_ opinion and run with it?”

“Yes, and she’s apparently the best in the business. But I hear she’s a bit brassy at times. So I want you to be nice to her.”

“I’m always nice!” he protested. Rose snorted and he rolled his eyes with a tiny grin he hoped she didn’t see before he turned back to the stove. 

“Good morning,” came from the doorway, and Ian looked up to see Auntie coming in, already dressed for the day. “I see you lot are off to an early start.”

“Well, the little princess demands our attention a little before six in the morning,” Rose explained. “But we’re really terribly lucky. I’ve read that most babies don’t sleep through the night until they’re a bit older than this, yet she usually sleeps from midnight or so.”

“That’s because she’s brilliant,” Auntie said in a certain tone that brokered no argument - not that she would ever get one. 

“Do you want to take her?” Rose offered, lifting the baby a little. 

“No, dear, not right now, I think I’d better help Ian. He looks a bit hapless.”

“Oi!” he protested. “I am not!”

“The heat under the bacon is too high, son.”

“This is how I cook it all the time at home.”

“Well, you do it wrong,” Auntie said matter-of-factly. Ian didn’t miss Rose’s snigger.

A few minutes later he was cooking harmoniously with Auntie while Rose tried to talk the baby into smiling at her. It looked like she was getting close, but not quite. Eleanor continued to hold out on her. From a distance, they heard the front door slam and Fergus call out, “Mam!”

“That boy,” Auntie said, shaking her head and closing her eyes. “Shouting and carrying on in the house with a bairn.”

Rose giggled a little and Ian smirked. Thankfully, it hadn’t been a problem. 

“There you are!” Fergus burst out when he rounded the corner. “Should have known. I just let my stomach follow the smell of brekkie.” 

Ian snorted. “Trust you to show up just before we plate the food.”

Fergus ignored him, just kissed Auntie’s cheek and raised a hand to Ian. “How are ye, bampot?”

“Not bad. Slept a full five hours last night.”

“Ugh. I’d die,” Fergus complained, then spotted Rose. “But this little lady is worth it, aren’t you, Ellie?”

“Oi! I’ve told you! Her name is not fucking ‘Ellie’, numpty!”

Before Fergus could say anything, Ian was hit in the face with a dishtowel. “Oi!”

“You know better than to swear,” Auntie said seriously. “Watch your mouth, young man. There are ladies and a baby here.”

Ian looked over at Rose for help, but she shrugged, fighting back a smile. “Don’t look at me.”

He sighed and Fergus chuckled, having come out the victor. Apparently testing to see if his luck would continue, he looked at Rose. “May I take her?”

“Sure!” Rose said, offering her up, but Fergus held up a finger, then went to the sink and washed his hands. Ian and Rose exchanged a glance and pursed their lips to keep from grinning at him. 

In just a moment, Fergus was back with Rose, reaching for the baby, and Ian watched the exchange carefully - as he always did when someone else had their hands on his daughter. Fergus seemed to be a complete natural with her, however, and once again, Ian was warmed when he saw the proud grin on his cousin’s face. 

“Well hello there, wee one, and aren’t you just a sight? Oh, she’s awake this time and looking at me, bless. Hi, Ellie!”

“For the last time --” Ian started, turning around, but Rose caught his attention, waving her hand and staring at the baby. 

“Ian. Look. She’s smiling.”

It was true. Eleanor was gazing up at her uncle, a smile on her little face - a smile that Ian and Rose had seen only in her sleep before now. 

Ian did his best not to be hurt that his cousin was getting his daughter’s first smile, and brushed it off. “It’s just gas. She does that a lot.”

“You’re just butthurt, bampot,” Fergus gloated without looking away from the baby. He was beaming, looked like he may cry, and nearly all Ian’s hurt melted away. “Don’t worry, she still loves her da.”

He felt arms go around his waist. “She does love her da,” Rose said softly, putting her head on his shoulder. “Don’t worry.”

“I won’t,” Ian agreed, kissing her forehead. 

“Clever girl,” Fergus cooed. “She knows who loves her, don’t you, Ellie?”

“For God’s sake, Fergus --”

Rose swatted him lightly and shook her head when he looked down at her. Ian sighed. Looked as if she was going to be called Ellie whether he liked it or not.

~*~O~*~

Brekkie was delayed slightly by Rose having to feed Eleanor. She told everyone to go ahead without her but was quickly overruled by the Scots in the kitchen. So she retreated to the rocker, doing her best to hurry Eleanor along - an impossible feat. Fairly soon, though, she emerged from Auntie’s room, rejoined the family and they sat down to eat. 

“When are you going back to work?” Auntie asked Ian. 

He swallowed his food and answered. “I start back at the clinic a week from today, then at the office part time on the eighteenth. Three days a week, Monday, Wednesday and Friday. I’ll go back to full time with call sometime next month.” 

“Part-time,” Fergus said in a chiding tone. “I’m shocked you’re going back at all. Would have thought you’d prefer to stay home with your lasses.”

“You’d have thought right,” Ian said, unperturbed. “But I figured my sweetheart could likely use a break from me. Too much togetherness isn’t always the best thing, you know.” He reached over and squeezed her hand and Rose grinned. Having him around wasn’t even close to a problem. 

“Actually,” she teased, “I think you probably just miss work. I doubt you’ve gone this long without handling an emergency in two decades.”

“Eleanor running out of nappies is an emergency,” he deflected with a grin and a wink, and everyone at the table snorted. 

“Rose, dear, I was thinking,” Auntie started, changing the subject. “I’ve got my knitting circle this afternoon at three, and wondered if you might like to come along and bring the baby. My friends would be delighted to meet you. They’ve heard all about you and Eleanor, of course.”

She didn’t even have to look over at Ian to see him tense, she could feel it in the air. “How did they hear all about Rose and Eleanor?” he asked Auntie.

“From me.” Auntie straightened her shoulders. 

“Not from the tabloids?”

“They’re all capable of reading, Ian, and they all know you. Have done for years. I’m sure they’ve seen you on the covers of the red tops and been curious to read the article.” 

He looked over at Rose. “I dunno. I guess we could --”

“You’re not invited,” she said succinctly. “This is just for us girls.”

Ian’s eyes went wide and Rose bit back a laugh, hearing Fergus do the same. 

“You and Graham can stay here and repair the step on the back porch.”

That killed Fergus’ laugh.

“Auntie --”  
“Mam--”

She raised an eyebrow and they silenced at once. Rose took a second to admire the way her children respected her, and hoped she’d command the same respect from Eleanor - and any other children they had. Wildly, she thought back on their rendezvous in the shower and hoped there wouldn’t be any more children - yet.

“I don’t know how to knit, Auntie,” Rose said to break the silence. “I’m afraid I’ll just sit there and look stupid.”

“You won’t look stupid at all, dear. Any one of us can show you the basics. You’re a clever girl, you’ll catch on right away. What do you say?”

It was clear that this meant something to Auntie, and Rose wanted to please her future mother-in-law. Besides, it would be more fun than sitting here and watching Ian and Fergus fix the back porch. She looked over at Ian, who still looked a little concerned, and grinned. 

“Of course I’ll go. It’ll be lovely to learn a new skill.”

“Don’t forget to use sanitizer before any of those old biddies touch my wee niece,” Fergus advised, and Rose laughed when Auntie popped the back of his head.

~*~O~*~

Auntie looked proud as a peacock when she carried a swaddled Eleanor into the home where the knitting circle was meeting that afternoon, a bag full of knitting supplies over her shoulder. Rose carried the nappy bag and Eleanor’s empty carrier in case she napped while they were there, but she strongly suspected that the carrier wouldn’t be used at all, that Eleanor would be in someone’s arms the whole time. 

“Grace!” exclaimed a woman as soon as they entered the large lounge. “What’s that you’ve got - _Good Lord,_ is that _Rose Tyler_?”

Rose flushed at the gaping looks from the older women in the room, but Auntie didn’t seem a bit shaken. “This is, indeed, Rose Tyler. My daughter-in-law, come this autumn when she marries my Ian. And this,” she indicated the bundle in her arms, “is my granddaughter. Eleanor.”

At once, they were surrounded by women flocking to meet her and Eleanor. Rose was polite… and quietly grateful that Ian wasn’t there. The small crowd around the baby would have tripped his trigger, without question. 

Eventually the women dispersed and went back to their seats, chatting animatedly. Rose had done her best to remember everyone’s name, but was sure she’d failed. It seemed like a friendly enough group, though, so maybe they wouldn’t mind. 

Auntie indicated an empty love seat that the two of them could occupy, and Rose made her way over there to sit. She offered to take the baby so Auntie could knit once they were seated, but the other woman brushed her off. Left with nothing to do, Rose folded her hands in her lap politely and looked around the room at the knitting women. 

“You’re not working on your _special project_ today, Grace?” a dark-haired woman, Betty, asked in a teasing tone.

“Not today,” Auntie answered. “Got an armful of grandbaby, don’t I?”

“She’s bonnier than I expected her to be,” said a woman named Maureen, and Rose was surprised to see the woman nodding at _her_.

“Well, what did you expect of the woman that caught Ian’s eye?” another woman, Dorothy, challenged. 

“That’s true,” said another, Peggy. “A boy that fit was bound to bring home a knockout, when he finally did.”

Beverly sighed. “I always hoped he or his brother would take a shine to my Carrie, but neither ever did.”

“Ian ended up with exactly who he was meant to be with,” Auntie said smoothly, bouncing the baby. “I couldn’t be happier to have Rose for my daughter-in-law.”

Rose flushed while the women hummed in agreement, then Betty spoke up again. “So, Rose, how are you liking motherhood?” 

“Very well, so far,” she said, mindful of her manners. “Of course, it’s still early days, but Eleanor is a dream baby.”

“She certainly is,” Auntie bragged. “And brilliant, too. Already sleeping through the night and smiled at Graham this morning.”

There was a little murmur of approval around the room, and Rose assumed that Eleanor had passed muster this round. She was oddly satisfied, and thrilled when she looked over and saw Auntie’s proud look. 

“So when is the wedding? Autumn, I believe Grace said?”

“November,” Rose confirmed. “We’re thinking the 24th.”

“Beautiful time of year,” Dorothy confirmed. “I always wanted an autumn wedding.”

“Oh that will be just lovely,” Beverly sighed. “Have you decided on colors yet?”

Rose shook her head. “No, we haven’t met with the wedding planner yet. We do that this week. But mostly we’ve been busy with the baby.”

“Understandable,” Maureen said sagely. “And then getting used to each other, as well, I assume, since your relationship is so new.”

Rose’s eyebrow went up and cloister bells rang at the back of her mind. She’d been in on enough gab sessions in the estates to know that tone.

“Grace, I bet you’re so thrilled to finally have a grandbaby,” Betty cut in smoothly.

“I am,” she confirmed. “This wee one - and Rose - are an answer to prayer.”

“But is she your grandbaby?” Maureen asked, and Rose felt like she’d been hit. 

“Maureen!”

“Pardon?” Rose asked calmly.

“The tabloids reported while you were pregnant that Ian wasn’t the father, now suddenly the baby’s here and he is. Which is it?”

Auntie puffed with rage. “Are you going to sit here and call my daughter-in-law some sort of besom?”

“I’m doing no such thing, Grace, smooth your feathers,” Maureen said in a buttery tone. “I’m simply trying to protect my friend of fifty years from a potential heartbreak when she finds out the granddaughter she’s prayed so diligently for is not hers after all.”

Auntie looked to be on the verge of tears and Rose felt her blood boil. But as much as she would love to tell these women off, Jackie Tyler-style, she couldn’t let her estate upbringing show here. These women already thought less of her, if she let her temper fly, she’d never gain their respect. So, as difficult as it was, she swallowed her anger and plastered a smile on her face. 

“I appreciate your concern for Auntie, Maureen, but there’s no reason to worry. Ian is Eleanor’s father and there is no question about that. We’re a very happy family, even if we seemed to become a family out of the blue to everyone who wasn’t a part of the process. We kept our relationship and the nature of it private as long as we could to avoid nasty speculation.”

Eleanor fussed, perhaps sensing the tension in the room, and Rose reached for her. “If you’ll excuse me, Auntie, ladies, I believe the little one needs to eat. Is there a room I could use?”

“Yes, I’ll show you,” Dorothy offered, setting her knitting to the side and getting to her feet. Rose followed her to a small craft room, assured the woman that she didn’t need anything, only a quiet place to feed the baby. In truth, Eleanor would have been perfectly content to eat in the room with the other women and she had her scarf that Auntie had given her at her birthday to act as a cover, but Rose herself had needed to get away and take a deep breath. Or ten. She hoped that she’d handled that appropriately, and she hoped that she hadn’t left Auntie behind to the wolves. Tears threatened, but she blinked them back. There was no time for an emotional breakdown. 

Rose had expected something like this at some point, but had never dreamed that Auntie would be involved. She’d figured it would come from one of her dad and Ian’s friends or something. Never this. And now that it had happened and she’d handled it well (or so she hoped), she knew she could handle it when the questions inevitably arose again. She couldn’t help but wonder what Ian would have done in her place, and even giggled a little bit to think of the bollocking he likely would have given the older woman. That died down, though, when she thought of him being confronted by someone at a party or something. 

Honestly, it didn’t matter. Eleanor was showing every sign of looking just like her father and before long, nobody would be _able_ to question her parentage. 

Feeling guilty for having left Auntie to fend for herself, she burped and changed Eleanor as quickly as she could, then headed back out to the lounge, taking her seat next to Auntie again. There was a slight chill in the room that had nothing to do with temperature, but Rose barely had a second to acknowledge it. 

“I’m sorry, lass,” Maureen started. “I was out of line. Grace and I have been friends for many a year, and I don’t want to see her hurt.”

“I’m a big girl, Maureen. Old enough to know if I’m having the wool pulled over my eyes,” Auntie said serenely. 

Rose did her best to project the same serenity. “I understand that you don’t know me, but I suspect you will, as time goes on. My daughter and I are nothing to be feared.” 

“I’m sure you’re not,” Maureen agreed, and the women around her went on knitting, gossiping, and chatting for another pleasant hour until Auntie announced it was time to go.

~*~O~*~

“How did it go at the knitting circle today?” Ian asked just before midnight when Rose laid the sleeping baby down in the travel cot they’d brought to Glasgow and started towards the bed. 

“It went fine,” she said as she shrugged out of her dressing gown. “About how I’d expected.”

He gave her a shrewd look. “You weren’t exactly looking forward to the afternoon, I know, so ‘how I’d expected’ could be rather shitty.”

Rose snorted. “It wasn’t shitty, not really. There was one woman who questioned Eleanor’s parentage --”

He made a disgusted noise. “Let me guess. Fucking Maureen.” Rose nodded, crawling into the bed beside him and he swore again. “Fucking bitch.”

“Ian…”

“Fergus is right. She’s an old biddy. Always has been.”

Rose put her hand on his chest and instantly, he calmed a little. “Settle down, handsome. She only did so out of a sense of protection for Auntie. I understand and even appreciate it in a way.”

Ian appreciated anyone being protective of Auntie as well, but not at the expense of his sweetheart. “It was fucking rude.”

“Yes, it was, but she apologized afterwards and the rest of the afternoon was lovely. I even learned the basic stitch.”

He sighed, sensing his own defeat, and kissed her hair. “Are you going to be knitting me socks and shit now?”

Rose snorted. “Not likely. You know me, I’ll probably forget how to do it before tomorrow morning.”

“That’s not true. You’re brilliant,” he praised her. 

She raised her face to his and kissed him. “Thank you.”

“What do you want to do tomorrow?”

Rose shrugged. “I didn’t have anything in mind. I don’t know Glasgow well, this is only my second time here, so whatever you want to do.”

He swallowed his nerves, thinking back to the last time they’d visited when he’d spotted Fergus’ blanket. “I was thinking maybe we could go through the attic a bit. There should be some stuff from when I was a baby there, maybe some of it could be useful.”

“Do you know what’s up there?”

Ian shook his head. “No idea. But I’ll bet there’s some baby pictures and whatnot.”

Rose laid her hand on his chest. “Will that be emotional for you?”

“Maybe a bit,” he acknowledged. “But you’ll be with me, right?”

“Of course I will, unless the baby needs me.”

“Then I’ll be fine. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Without another word, the two drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday (May 10) to Eleanor! She's six today, somewhere in Pete's World! <3


	88. Chapter 88

10 June 2012

Rose found Ian cross-legged on the floor of the attic, where he’d been for the last four hours, surrounded by memorabilia. They’d found lots of mementos from his early childhood, and Rose had been right the night before, it had been an emotional morning for him. He was currently flipping through a photo album and she watched him brush his cheek idly. Wanting to give him time to pull himself together if he needed it, she made a little more noise crossing the boards of the floor than she needed to, but when he looked up at her, his smile was genuine. 

“What took you so long?” he asked. 

“Eleanor spit up all over me. I had to change my clothes,” she told him, indicating her new outfit. “Auntie put the dirty clothes in the wash so they won’t stink up the rest of the laundry on the way back to London.”

Ian snorted. “Not like all our clothes don’t smell like baby anyway,” he scoffed. 

Rose didn’t comment, just made her way over to him and took the seat beside him that she’d abandoned a little while before to go feed the baby. “What have you got there?”

“One of Mam’s photo albums. She loved to take pictures. Seemed like Da was always bringing her a new camera or lens or something as a gift, or for no reason at all other than because he could. This album is from a trip to Italy to see my grandparents when I was six.”

She laid her head against his shoulder to look down at the faded photographs. “Did you go every year?”

“I did,” he confirmed. “Mam was an only child, and she was close with her parents. I visited my Nonna and Nonno as often as Mam wanted to go until she died, usually three or four times a year for a couple weeks at a time. It’s where I gained fluency in Italian - and learned to cook Italian food. Sometimes Da would come with, but more often he stayed home. He never really mastered the language and it was hard for him to communicate. Plus his job was a bit demanding at times. But he’d phone us every night at bedtime so he could tell me goodnight, and then he and my mother would talk until well after I fell asleep.”

“They missed each other that much?”

“Oh, yes,” Ian grinned, looking down at a photo of himself. “Da hated those times, but understood that they were important. He knew that Mam’s home was with him, but part of her heart would always be in Italy.”

Rose could relate. Her heart and her home were with Ian, but there was a part of her that would always be in the prime universe. She could only hope that Ian would be as understanding as his father had been.

They were quiet for a minute and he pointed out a couple of photos of himself with family members, doing the things that families do. There was a photo of him with his mother eating ice cream, one of him with his Nonno fishing, and one with his Nonna in front of the Christmas tree. Rose loved looking at all of them and imagining Eleanor doing similar things. 

“Did you keep going to Italy after your mother died?”

“I did,” he confirmed, turning a page. “I went every summer break for at least two or three weeks until Uni and often around the holidays as well. My grandparents wanted me to come more often; in fact, they wanted me to move in with them after my mother died, but I was happy with Auntie and Uncle. They did their best to understand.”

“Did they speak any English?”

“No, just enough to communicate effectively when they were here, which wasn’t very often. In Italy, I spoke Italian unless I was talking to Mam. I’m rusty now, but I used to be able to speak as well as a native.”

“You speak it just fine,” she assured him, feeling a little quiver in her belly just thinking about the way he murmured to her in Italian sometimes.

He gave her a knowing smirk then flipped a couple more pages. There was a picture of Ian with a couple of boys around the same age. “Cousins?” Rose guessed.

“The dark-haired one on the left is my second cousin Luciano. The others are just boys from Nonna’s neighborhood. I’d play with them when I was in the country, ride bikes and whatnot. I was a novelty - the British boy. Luciano and I get together for drinks whenever he’s in town; you’ll meet him at the wedding. I don’t know what happened to the others.”

“You could always look them up on Facebook,” Rose suggested.

“Could do. I’m not sure I’d remember all their names.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “Maybe Luci would. It’s not important, anyway. Look,” he changed the subject, grinning and pointing to a picture of himself milking a cow. “For a split second, I wanted to be a farmer.”

Rose giggled a little, imagining Ian in a straw hat and overalls. “When’s the last time you went to Italy?”

“When Nonno died fifteen years ago. There’s no one left for me to visit now, except Luciano, and he comes to England on business often enough for us to catch up, so I’ve had no real reason to go back. I’d like to take Eleanor though, when she’s older. Let her see where her family is from.”

“I’d like that,” Rose smiled. 

He leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to her lips then closed the book and set it on the pile of things they were taking with them back to London before turning back to the boxes they’d been going through. Rose eyed the pile they’d made. Thank heavens they were taking Pete’s zeppelin and didn’t have to worry about checking bags.

“Look,” Ian said from a couple of feet away. “I don’t fucking believe it.”

“What have you got there?”

“It’s all our home movies,” he said, sounding awed and coming to sit beside her again. “I remember Da bringing the video camera along on family trips, telling me to wave at the camera.”

Rose peered in the box. There were lots of smaller boxes, labeled with things like “Xmas ‘69” and “Ian’s first bike”, as well as old-fashioned spools of dark film. 

“Can we watch them?”

“Would you want to?” he countered. 

There was something in his voice, a hesitance, and she decided to give him an out. “We don’t have to. It was just an idea.”

Ian just looked at her for a minute, then set the box to the side and opened his arms to her. “Come here, sweetheart.”

She did as asked, leaning into him while he put his arms around her. The two were silent a while and she sensed he needed the quiet, so she didn’t interrupt it. After a while, he sighed. 

“Look at me, Rose. Surrounded by my past but holding my future.”

There was nothing to say to that, she just tightened her arms around him. 

“They’d have loved you, Rose. They’d have absolutely loved you.”

“They wouldn’t have resented me for being too young?”

“Not at all. They’d have adored you for making their boy so blissfully happy. I only wish they could have met Eleanor.”

“I do, too,” she whispered.

“My Da would have thought the sun rose and set in her little eyes, just as I do.”

“Just like Auntie does.”

He chuckled and she could hear the grin in his voice. “Just like Auntie does.”

They were quiet for a while, just holding each other amidst all the memories. Rose nuzzled deeper into his arms and said, “I’d give anything if there was an attic I could go to and find all the things that were in our flat in the other universe. We came here with nothing but the clothes on our backs. All of our photographs, our furniture, our clothes, everything, it got left behind in our flat a universe away.” Then she scoffed a little. “Not that I could wear those clothes now, anyway, I’m two sizes bigger and not an estate girl anymore. And we certainly don’t need the furniture. But it would have been nice to have baby pictures of myself to compare to Eleanor, you know? I like to think she looks just a little like me.”

Ian squeezed her. “I’m so sorry you lost everything, sweetheart. I’d go get it all if I could.”

“I lost everything I had before, but I gained a family. I gained you and Eleanor. I wouldn’t change that for all the riches in the universe.” 

“I love you, Rose Tyler, and I promise you - we’re going to spend the rest of your life making beautiful new memories to replace the ones you lost.”

She smiled, hugging him tighter, loving him completely. “I think this moment will definitely be a keeper, as far as memories go. I never want to forget what it feels like to be held by you, safe in your arms.”

“You’ll never get a chance to forget, sweetheart. I intend to hold you all the time.”

Rose raised her face to him and he kissed her sweetly. “Good,” she said. Then, out of the blue, she had a thought and her lip curled in amusement. “Say, did anyone get any film of you when you were in Uni?”

“What?” he asked, tensing a little, making her mischievous smile grow. 

“Did anyone get any film of you while you were a rock star? I’d like to see that.”

“I’m sure someone must have,” he said, not meeting her eyes, and she knew he was hedging. 

“Does your Auntie have video of you in the band?”

“No,” he said, and she didn’t think he was lying, but she suspected he was hiding something. 

She followed her hunch. “Does Fergus?”

Ian let out a terrific sigh, and Rose could have cheered. 

“It’s times like these I wish I was able to lie to you.”

She giggled. “So they exist?”

“Yes, the bloody menace recorded a few concerts in uni. I would record his matches in turn. He likes to watch them sometimes. Relive his fucking glory days.”

“I want to see them,” she said succinctly. 

“No.”

“Why not?”

“They’re at Fergus’.”

“So let’s go over there.”

“No.”

“Ian…”

“No, you don’t need to see that shit.”

“Of course I do,” she laughed. “My fiance was a local legend, a rock star, the frontman of the… Say, what was the name of your band, anyway?” He squirmed, but didn’t answer. “Ian?”

He muttered something under his breath. 

“I didn’t catch that.”

Ian groaned petulantly, rolling his head back on his shoulders, and she suddenly had an idea what he looked like as a wisearse teenager. Then he sighed elaborately. “The Well Hungarians.”

Rose blinked at him for a second, taking in his flushing cheeks, then howled laughter. Her arms went out from around his torso so she could clutch her own, and she laughed harder than she could remember laughing in a long time. 

“Yes, yes,” he said sullenly, but with a twinkle in his eye. “Laugh it up, funny girl.”

“Of all the things you could have said, I never would have expected _that_ ,” she hooted. 

“Are you quite done?”

Rose continued to giggle, tears of mirth streaming down her face, until she got a better grip on herself. When she was done, she wiped her cheeks and smiled at her bloke. “I take it you named the band?”

“What makes you say that?”

“After yourself, that is,” she teased, then gave him a lascivious look. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. I’m going downstairs to take a shower,” he groused good-naturedly, getting to his feet.

“And then we’re going to Fergus’?” Rose asked, hopping up and beaming.

Ian ran a hand down his face. “Then I guess we’re going to Fergus’ so you can watch a video.”

Rose clapped excitedly, bouncing up and down a little, and was gratified when Ian couldn’t help but grin at her antics.

~*~O~*~

Rose was surprised to hear that Fergus lived in a duplex and not a freestanding house. The neighborhood looked nice, though, and they passed children playing in the street as he drove through the residential area towards where he lived. He was terribly excited about the fact that Ian and Rose were coming to his house and bringing his niece, and Ian seemed good-naturedly grouchy about it. The two sniped at each other playfully in the front seat while Rose smiled at Eleanor. 

“What about Bard?” Ian said suddenly. 

“What about him?”

“I don’t want him in Eleanor’s face.”

“Who is Bard?” Rose asked, confused. “Your flatmate?”

“M’dog,” Fergus explained, looking in the rearview. “He’s a sheepdog. Friendly wee bugger, you’ll like him.”

“I don’t want him in Eleanor’s face,” Ian repeated stubbornly. 

“Calm down, ye shite,” Fergus said in what Rose now recognized as his Ian-soothing tone. “He’ll sniff her a bit, and Rose too. New people in his environment. But he’s been around a bairn before and was an angel. He won’t bother her.” 

Ian grumbled but Rose wasn’t worried about it. She liked dogs. 

“Here we are,” Fergus announced, pulling up into a driveway. Ian hopped out and Rose waited for him to open the door for her. Fergus offered his arm to her, grinning, and Rose took it while Ian got Eleanor and the nappy bag out of the car. Then he led her to the front door. She could hear the barking of a dog on the other side, and turned around to look at Ian, who looked tense. 

“It’s just me, ye mangy mutt,” Fergus groused pleasantly, swinging open the door and letting go of Rose to crouch down and greet the dog, ruffling its fur. “You’re making a bunch of fuss about nothing.”

Bard seemed to spot her and calmed a little, leaning his head over. Rose offered her hand, letting the dog sniff it, then rubbed his head. “Hello, Bard. I’m Rose.”

“Move, ye furry beastie, and let her in the house,” Fergus commanded. Bard did as told and Rose moved out of the way of the doorway so Ian could get in with the baby. Once Bard caught sight of the carrier, he cocked his head to the side and looked up at his owner. 

“That’s Ellie. You two will be great playmates. Go on, say hello.”

Bard took tentative steps towards the sleeping baby in the carrier and sniffed at Eleanor’s little foot. Rose was tense, watching them, and Ian’s voice cut in. “It’s alright, boy. Just a wee baby.”

Eleanor apparently gained the dog’s approval because he sat down on his haunches and barked. Rose beamed. She liked this dog already.

“Atta boy,” Fergus praised, ruffling the dog’s ears again. “Now. Go be a good lad and lie down. We’re going to watch a video.”

Rose felt a thrill of excitement and giggled. Ian rolled his eyes. Bard did as told and went to his doggie bed. 

Fergus indicated the lounge they were standing in. “Rose, make yourself at home. Can I get you a drink?”

“No, I’m fine, thank you.”

Ian brushed by her to sit the carrier down on the couch and Rose followed. Fergus apparently didn’t want to waste any time, because he went to his entertainment center and Rose was amused when he opened a little door and pulled out a DVD marked “Ian”.

“I should have burned those tapes years ago,” Ian griped while Rose pulled the baby out of the carrier. “And I sure as shit never should have let you convert them to a DVD.”

“Oh, but I’ve been waiting for this moment, Ian Docherty. Now sit down and shut up.”

Ian grumbled, but sat down on the couch, opening his arm for Rose to cuddle up to him with the baby, which she did. Just a few minutes later, Fergus came over. 

“Now, Rose, if you get too overcome at the sight of this wanker, I have a guest bedroom you two can use…”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Fergus!” Ian burst out while Rose giggled and blushed. 

“Here, let me have the bairn,” Fergus said to Rose, reaching for Eleanor. “So you have your hands free to hold your sides and laugh.”

Rose handed over the baby and settled back in next to Ian while Fergus took a seat in his recliner. Once he got Eleanor situated, he pressed play. 

The film was a little grainy, obviously old, but the scene - a stage in a club - was clear enough. Rose waited for something to happen while the sounds of people in a pub created background noise. Then, an announcer’s voice came through the tape. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, the Electric Banana is proud to present - Colin Welsham, Ian Docherty, Pete Tyler, and David Woodbridge - _The Well Hungarians!_ ”

Rose swatted Ian’s leg excitedly. “I’ll get to see Dad, too!”

He smiled at her. “Back when he had hair.”

The lights came up on the stage and four young men came out to thunderous applause. Rose was excited to see her dad but more excited to see Ian, and he caught her eye right away when he came out last. Tall and lean, his curls were longer than she’d ever pictured and she bit back a grin, imagining what he must have looked like in the mornings with it like that, considering how wild it got now, short as it was. He was wearing a pair of tight black trousers and a ratty t-shirt, but it just looked _right_ on him. Dead sexy, even if it was out of fashion now. He owned the look and made it his own. 

Ian held his hands up while the other blokes took their places at their instruments. The audience got louder. 

“How the fuck are you, London?” Ian near-shouted in the microphone, and the crowd went wild. “We’re the Well Hungarians, and that’s not a fucking misnomer.” He waggled his eyebrows and Rose heard several female giggles from the audience that matched her own. The Ian she was snuggled against groaned and covered his face with his free hand. 

“Are you ready to rock?” 

Once again, the audience went wild, and Ian strapped on his guitar. He turned to the other blokes, then counted, and the four men started playing music. Rose took a second to seek out her dad and smiled. He looked almost the same as he had when she visited 1987 with the Doctor, maybe just a touch younger. Certainly a lot happier now that he was pounding on the drums and not having her mother snipe at him. 

The Ian on screen stepped up to the mic and the voice she loved so much, that she’d heard sing lullabies to her daughter for months now, started singing a rock song. She could see the silhouettes of people dancing in the foreground, but her eyes were locked on Ian. 

“Blimey, look at you,” she marveled out loud. 

“Yeah, yeah. I look like an idiot. Don’t fucking rub it in.”

“You don’t look like an idiot,” she argued, staring at the screen. “You look bloody _gorgeous_.”

And he did. His hair was dark, but she thought she rather prefered the salt-and-pepper hair he had now. The t-shirt he wore was snug, like the vest tops he wore to sleep in, and the hint of muscle rippling as he strummed his guitar was amazingly hot. She felt a twinge in her abdomen watching this man that she loved so much play and sing. 

“I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but that man on the screen is long gone.”

“No, he’s not,” she said, finally turning her head away from the image to look at her bloke. “He’s right here.”

“I don’t look like that anymore, sweetheart,” he said almost sadly. “I’m sorry. I wish I still did, for you.”

Rose reached up and touched his cheek lightly. “I’m glad you don’t. You’re perfect, Ian Docherty. Aged to perfection.”

He snorted, shaking his head, but she kissed him to reassure him. Within seconds, their tongues were battling and Ian’s hands were roaming. 

“Here’s my favorite part, Rose,” Fergus broke in. “Come up for air and look.” 

Ian and Rose broke apart as the song ended, and both flushed at the way they’d just gotten carried away at someone else’s house. Rose turned her attention back to the screen just in time to see someone throw a pair of knickers at Ian. He caught them, wiped his brow, winked at the person who threw them, then tossed them back. 

She giggled. “You wiped your brow with knickers?”

“I didn’t --”

“My bloke, the man-whore.”

“I was not!”

“He was, Birdie. Don’t let him lie to you.”

“Fergus, I’m going to fucking kill you.”

Rose just giggled and settled into Ian’s arms, putting her hand on his chest and watching him perform.

~*~O~*~

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, Daddy’s Little Face, happy birthday to you...” 

Ian kissed the baby sleeping on his chest, glancing around one more time to make sure that nobody had heard him in his moment of whimsy. Fergus had just left to go home, saying he’d be back in the morning to take them to the airport. Auntie had offered to teach Rose how to make tablet before bed, so Ian was alone with his little girl. He’d managed to win a couple of smiles from her tonight and was terribly chuffed with himself. He knew enough about infant development to know that they would be coming more and more often. He had no doubt that his Little Face would be anything other than a happy baby. They’d been so fortunate all along with her, he was sure she’d continue to be the best fucking baby ever. 

He yawned, rubbing his eyes and looking over at the clock on Auntie’s cable box. It was half eight. Eleanor would probably wake up in an hour or so and want to eat before she retired for the night, and he debated dozing in the chair while Rose and Auntie cleaned up from making tablet. Seemed like a good idea to him, to get some sleep while he could…

That was his last thought before he felt Rose’s hand on his arm and he looked up at her with startled eyes.

“Hey, handsome,” she said in a near-whisper. “Didn’t mean to scare you, I was just going to put the baby down.”

“She’s okay,” he protested, tightening his grip on the baby, sitting up a little and getting his bearings. “What time is it?”

“Half ten. She’ll be up again soon, so you should get your sleep.”

“Actually,” Auntie cut in, coming into the room carrying a large, pink bag, “I have a gift for you. I’m sorry it’s late, I wanted to bring it to the hospital when she was born but it wasn’t quite ready yet. I finished it this afternoon while you were at Graham’s. I’m grateful you lot went for a visit - I was worried I wouldn’t be done in time for your flight tomorrow morning.”

“What is it?” Ian asked curiously. 

“Let me take the baby and the two of you can open it.”

Ian got to his feet, handing over the baby while Rose took the bag, and the two of them went to sit on the couch. They looked at each other as if to ask who should open it, then both started pulling out the pink and white tissue paper. Ian gasped when he saw what was in the bottom of the bag and reached for it, forgetting about Rose for a second. 

“Auntie,” he breathed, pulling the blanket onto his lap. His eyes clouded with tears when he saw the embroidery in the corner - _Eleanor Grace Docherty 10-5-12_.

“I’m certain you have more than enough blankets, but I felt the need to carry on the tradition,” she explained, then sounded shy. “I hope you’ll get at least some use out of it.”

Ian was torn between never wanting to use it and never wanting to use anything else. It was tangible proof that Eleanor and her parentage had been accepted by his family. He never would have dared ask for it. 

Rose broke into his awed thoughts by sniffling, and he knew she’d read the same significance that he had. “Thank you, Auntie,” she cried, getting to her feet and going to hug the older woman. Auntie hugged her back with one arm. 

“You’re welcome, lass.”

“Auntie, I don’t know what to say,” Ian began, looking back down at the soft blanket in his hands. “This means so much.”

“Good. I hoped it would. I love you, son, and you, too, Rose. You gave me a grandbaby to be proud of and I’m thankful.” 

He just nodded, then got to his feet and hugged his aunt. There wasn’t anything else he could say.


	89. Chapter 89

11 June 2012

“So where are we going?” Rose asked as she walked along with Ian. He’d talked her into leaving the sleeping baby with Auntie and coming on a walk with him before Fergus’ arrival. Her skirt swished around her ankles and the light breeze played with her hair. She’d forgotten sunglasses but Ian had not, and he’d insisted that she wear his shades. She’d argued lightly, but gave up quickly.

Her silly bloke.

“I’m taking you to the loch.”

“The loch?”

“Yes. It’s more of a pond, really, but the locals get terribly fucking insulted if you call it that.”

Rose’s tongue went between her teeth. “Is this the loch you used to take girls to and try to get in their knickers?”

Ian stopped and looked at her, utterly shocked, and Rose bit back a giggle.

“Where the fuck did you - Fucking Fergus told you that, didn’t he?”

Rose didn’t answer, just pursed her lips to keep the giggles in. Ian swore under his breath and she squeezed his hand. “It’s alright, Ian. I rather enjoyed hearing tales describing what a lothario I’ve taken up with.”

“I’m going to fucking kill him.”

“Oh, don’t do that. He just wanted to protect my virtue from a known philanderer.”

“Going to tie him to a fucking boulder and toss his big stupid arse right into the fucking loch, like I should have done years ago.”

She couldn’t help the giggles that escaped. He gave her a lopsided grin that confirmed he wasn’t serious - even if he was more than a little chagrined. They continued walking until Rose could see the loch just a little ways ahead. Once there, Ian led her along the edge, halfway between the loch and the tree line, until he got to a clearing. He stopped and looked all around, a little smile on his face. 

“I’ve been coming to this spot for four fucking decades. You’d think it would have changed, but it looks just the same as it did when I was a lad.”

“It’s beautiful,” Rose said honestly, taking in the scenery. 

“Used to come down here when Auntie started harping about doing chores. She had no idea where I’d run off to. The only one who knew was Fergus. It was our fishing spot. We’d also play ‘explorers,’ and there was a treehouse a little ways that way,” he pointed towards the woods.

“Did you ever catch anything when you fished?”

“Not me. Fergus pulled a tiny little carp out one time. You’d have thought he hooked fucking Nessie, the way he went on.”

Rose laughed a little and Ian grinned at her. He carefully selected a stone, picked it up, and tossed it out over the surface of the water. It skipped five times before it went under. He was grinning when she looked over at him. “Seven is my personal best. Fergus has only ever been able to get four.”

She snorted lightly. “Is everything a competition with you two?”

“It was when we were lads. Now that we’re older, not so much. He likes to wind me up.”

“And you like to wind him up, too,” she grinned. 

“I do. He’s a challenge.”

“Did you compete over girls?”

It was Ian’s turn to snort. “There was no fucking competition there. Fergus was the handsome footie player, I was the science geek. He did much better with the ladies than I did.”

“Really, Ian. I’ve seen you wipe your face with a girl’s knickers. It’s not like I’m under any illusions.”

He made a noise indicating that he was put out by that response, and Rose giggled. She walked over to him, swaying her hips unnecessarily. Once she reached him, she slid her hands up his chest and over his shoulders, lacing her fingers behind his head. "So Fergus always had the edge on you when it came to the ladies?”

“He did.”

“Even when you were a gorgeous front man for an amazing band?"

"Well, I suppose that helped a bit…” Rose snorted a laugh and he grinned before he went on. “But it’s true,” he said and brought his hands up to her waist, smirking down at her. “Fergus was the ladykiller, not me.”

“I happen to find you infinitely more attractive than your cousin.”

Smirking, he bent to press a kiss to her lips, then kissed a path towards her ear. “That’s a fucking relief.” 

“So are you trying to tell me that what Fergus said is a lie?”

Ian trailed his lips down the column of her neck towards her collarbone. “Probably. I’d dismiss everything he says out of hand.”

“You never had any girlfriends and brought them down here to get in their knickers?”

He raised his head to look at her, his brows furrowed in consternation. “You’re terrible, do you know that? Fucking terrible.”

She tittered, then rubbed her thumbs over his short hair. “I’m not terrible.”

“You really are, but I love you anyway. Why do you want to know?” 

“You’ve all but admitted it by dodging the question, you know.”

He rolled his eyes and she bit back another laugh at his expression. “Yes, alright? I brought girlfriends here a couple of times when I was a teenager. But I wasn’t the manwhore Fergus seems to have fucking painted me as.”

“Did you bring me down here to seduce me?” she teased, hoping he’d say yes.

“No, that’s not why we’re here.”

He didn’t offer her any more, and she said, “Well I certainly hope you enjoyed those times.”

“You do?” he asked with a raised eyebrow, his eyes curious.

She nodded, biting her lip. “Yeah. Because I’m the last girlfriend you’ll ever bring down here.”

He beamed at her. “Too fucking right, you are. You’re the last girlfriend I’ll ever have, period.”

“Because I’m going to be your wife.”

He kissed her gently, slowly, then pulled away and kissed the tip of her nose. “That’s what I brought you down here for.”

She looked at him, confused. “To marry me?”

“No.” He took both her hands in his, his thumb playing idly with her ring. “You remember the day I took you to the lake in Hyde Park?”

“Of course,” Rose answered, trying not to squirm. 

“I wanted to take you back there on Mothering Sunday, your first Mothering Sunday. I wanted to make that place special and overwrite the mistake I made there before. I had intended to propose to you there. But I jumped the fucking gun in the hospital. I don’t regret asking you when I did, not one bit,” he added hurriedly. “Honestly, I couldn’t have waited another fucking second - but I wish I had been more romantic.”

“It was plenty romantic,” she told him, smiling. Her bloke was absolutely daft. 

“Rose, there was no way I could have asked you to marry me that would have been good enough. What I did got the job done, we’re engaged, but it wasn’t good enough for you. I want to fix that.”

She was shocked when he dropped to one knee in front of her. 

“Rose Marion Tyler, I love you in every way it’s possible for a man to love a woman. You are absolutely everything to me, sweetheart. I know this not the way you expected - or hoped - your life would turn out. I understand that. But I hope, I pray with all my might, that it’s what you want now, and what you’ll want for the rest of your life.”

“Oh, Ian…”

“I want to be the man you love. I want to be the man you need, the man you rely on. I want to be the safe place for you to come to when you’re scared or hurt. I want to be the one to make you smile, to make you laugh. I want to hold you in my arms every night until I fall asleep. I want your gorgeous face to be the first thing I see every morning. And I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want that.”

One hand was covering Rose’s mouth while tears gathered and fell. She didn’t know what to say, couldn’t think of anything, really, except every cell of her being screaming that she loved him. 

“Sweetheart, I can’t give you universes, but I swear to give you everything good this world has to offer. Anything you want, anything you need. Anything you dream of. I want you to have it. I’ll go get it for you. Anything - _anything_ \- to make you happy.”

She dropped to her knees in front of him so that they were somewhat eye-to-eye and ignored the tears sliding down her cheeks. “Ian, _you_ make me happy. You _are_ the man I love, and you _are_ the man I need. When I’m frightened, I want you with me. When I’m sad, I want to be held by you. When I’m happy, I want to share that joy with you. Being with you...it’s all I want. Forever.”

He dipped his head forward and kissed her softly. “I love you, Rose. Please, please marry me. Be my wife.”

“If you ask me a thousand times, I’ll say ‘yes’ a thousand and one, Ian.”

Ian let go of her hands to come up and cup her cheeks, kissing her. She put her arms around him, pulling her body against his, seeking the comfort of his nearness. They stroked and caressed each other lovingly, just wanting to touch, until Ian pulled away from the kiss and started to seat himself on the ground, surprising Rose yet again. He took a position facing the loch with his knees bent and spread, then reached for her. She smiled before she gathered her skirt and sat down between his legs, leaning backwards against his chest. Ian’s arms went around her, holding her close, keeping her safe. It was the same position he’d held her in when her heartburn had been unbearable. He’d held her then and let her sleep. There was no need for him to hold her now, just the pleasure of touch. 

She leaned her head back on his shoulder and knew, without any doubt, that she was the luckiest woman alive.

Ian kissed her softly, his lips demanding nothing of her, but Rose gave him everything anyway. She opened for him, but his invasion was slow, deliberate. She didn’t know if he was trying to drive her mad, but if he was, he was certainly doing a good job. Her free hand went to the back of his head and she scratched his scalp a little, the way she’d discovered he liked. He ramped up the intensity just a bit, and if she’d been able to, she’d have smirked. 

At length, he broke the kiss, dropping a couple of chaste, sweet kisses on her lips to soften the loss. “I love you, Rose Tyler,” he whispered.

She smiled at him. “I love you, too.”

Neither of them moved, still in the moment. Rose had never felt as loved as she did right then. 

Ian stirred just a little and Rose felt his lips at her neck, leaving nipping little kisses. She lay her head to the side, giving him all the room she could to kiss her exposed skin, fighting a shiver from his touch. He started nibbling at her shoulder, all the way up her neck, until he got to her earlobe. Rose bit her lip, her eyes closed, enjoying every touch from him. 

“I thought you weren’t going to seduce me,” she grinned. 

“I wasn’t,” he said between kisses on her neck. “I had no intention of seducing you.”

She rocked backwards a bit, feeling his erection press against her lower back. “Seems like you do.”

“Plans changed.”

Not wanting to discuss it anymore, she caught his lips with hers. He gave as good as he got - if not better - and the kiss grew steadily more heated. Ian covered her breasts with his hands, massaging and squeezing them gently, pulling an involuntary little sound out of her. His hands felt _so good_...he knew exactly how to touch her to drive her mad and she never wanted him to stop. 

Before she knew what he was doing, his hands had slipped under her shirt and pulled down the cups of her bra, releasing her breasts. He started massaging and squeezing them again, this time adding a little pinch to her nipples. She gasped at the sensation, and he took that opportunity to deepen the kiss even more, subtly grinding his hips against her back.

“I want you,” she panted when they broke apart for air. “Please.”

“You know we can’t. Not yet. Two more weeks.”

“We did it the other day,” she reminded him. 

“And we agreed not to do it again until you’re cleared.”

She groaned a little in disappointment, then gasped again when one hand lifted her skirt so he could reach between her legs, stroking her slit from outside her knickers. She started rolling her hips against his hand, wanting more, _needing_ more. 

“But I am going to make you come,” he whispered, pulling aside her knickers and letting his fingers part her. He went straight for her clit and Rose moaned. He stroked her with the perfect amount of pressure and she thrust her hips rhythmically, rocking back on his cock every time. He continued to lick and suck at her neck, driving her higher. 

“I love you,” he whispered. “I love you so fucking much, sweetheart…”

Instead of answering, Rose turned her head and caught his lips, kissing him with all the passion she felt for him. He responded by wrapping one arm around her rib cage and hauling her even closer while his fingers worked her, earning rhythmic little whimpers into his mouth. She wanted to touch him, she wanted to taste him, she wanted to --

Now there was an idea.

She broke the kiss and pulled away from him, smirking a little at the dazed look on his face. She got to her knees, still between his legs, and pulled down her knickers, kicking them free of her feet.

“What are you doing?” he said in a voice she knew was more squeaky than he’d like. 

Without answering with anything other than her tongue in the corner of her smile, she tugged at the button of his jeans, then pulled the fly down. Her hands went to the waistband of his jeans and pants and he raised his hips without her asking so she could pull them down to about mid-thigh.

“Rose?” he said, his eyes wide. Rose took him in hand and started sliding her fist up and down his cock, enjoying the way he moaned and leaned his head back. She adjusted her knees so she was straddling his legs, then bent over to suck him. Ian cried out, disturbing some nearby birds and causing her to smile around him. She swirled her tongue, bobbed and sucked, enjoying every second, knowing that she was bringing him pleasure. He alternately swore and pleaded and called out her name, driving her to do more, to drive him higher. When he cried out that he was close, she slowly pulled off. 

Ian moaned the loss of her mouth, but Rose just smiled as she raised her skirt and walked forward on her knees. He seemed to come to himself just as she was lowering her body onto him. 

“We can’t,” he said brokenly, even as his hands came up to her hips. “I want to, _holy fuck_ do I want to, but I won’t jeopardize your health, sweetheart.”

“Shhh,” she said and bent down to kiss him slowly, adjusting herself so that his cock was between her folds, ridiculously pleased when she got it on the first try. He gasped under her lips, then groaned when she started sliding her heat back and forth on him. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” he said, and Rose could definitely understand the sentiment. The tip of his cock was nudging her clit with every stroke and she moaned, biting her lip. Ian’s hands on her hips guided her motions and she threw her head back, her eyes closed, all of her awareness focused on where she rode him. The grinding of her hips sped up, earning a string of breathless swear words from Ian, and she fell forward, propping herself over him with her arms. 

“Can you come like this?” she asked, realizing that she’d be coming soon if they kept up that pace.

“Oh yeah, fuck yeah, I’m gonna come,” he promised. “Soon.”

Rose bent down and nipped his earlobe. “Me, too,” she whispered. 

His grip on her tightened and the pace increased. It seemed he was no longer willing to be passive, and he thrust upwards from below her, sliding against her clit with more force. It was perfect, it felt amazing, and she knew that orgasm wasn’t far away. 

“Ian,” she whimpered. “Ian…”

“Come for me, sweetheart,” he said, sounding short of breath. “Come, my love.”

She obeyed, crying his name and arching her back, every muscle tensing as the orgasm racked her body. She babbled, no idea what she was saying, unaware of anything, really, except the sensation of falling and the confidence that Ian would be there. 

His hands clenched her hips tight enough that she wondered if he’d leave bruises and he thrust once, twice, three times before he let out a loud moan and froze, eyes screwed shut and mouth open wide as he came. Rose felt the warm spurts of his seed hitting against her clit where she was still incredibly sensitive, and she shuddered with an aftershock. Ian was breathing raggedly and Rose shifted a little. He hissed in a breath and clutched her, holding her still.

Rose grinned and bent over to kiss him. The kiss was languid, slow, and Ian let go of her hips to let his hands caress her elsewhere. 

When the kiss broke, Rose opened her eyes to look down at him. Almost immediately, his blue-grey eyes opened to look at her. 

“Hi,” she said, smiling.

“Hello,” he grinned back.

“I love you.”

He chuckled, then sat up a little to catch her lips again. 

“I can’t wait til we can do this for real again,” she said when he released her.

His eyes twinkled at her. “The fuck do you mean by ‘for real’? What do you think we’ve been doing? Playing cards?”

Rose giggled and he chuckled with her, rubbing his hands over her back. “We should probably get back. Eleanor should be hungry soon.”

“Probably so,” she agreed. Then she leaned down and kissed him one last time. “Thank you for bringing me here,” she whispered. “I love you so much.”

“The pleasure was all mine, sweetheart,” he assured her, then pressed quick kiss to her lips. “We made a mess.”

“We did,” she agreed. His come was cooling on her, and she was sure he could feel it too, on his belly under her skirt. Glancing around, she spotted her knickers and reached for them, then cleaned them both up a little. “All better?” she asked. 

“All better,” he agreed. 

She climbed off of him, adjusting her clothes while Ian pulled his pants and trousers up and zipped them. When they were done, he reached for his hand and she took it happily. 

“We should do this again sometime,” she teased, her tongue at the corner of her mouth. 

“Sweetheart, you can rest assured that we will be doing this again.”


	90. Chapter 90

13 June 2012

“And you’re sure she’s okay?” Ian persisted, even as they got out of the car in front of the sleek high-rise. 

“She’s fine, Ian. I’m sure of it. Mum did a fine job raising me, didn’t she?”

He didn’t take the bait. “I just hate leaving her,” he grumbled instead, taking Rose’s hand and nodding to dismiss Henry. Leaving Eleanor behind while they went out for the afternoon had been wrenching, but he knew he’d better get used to it. He went back to work in just a few days and was dreading it terribly. 

“I hate it just as much as you do, handsome, but we have to leave her sometime. We need to be just us sometimes, you know? Besides, we had a lovely lunch date - we haven’t had a meal alone in over a month. And now we’re going to plan our wedding!”

She was so clearly, obviously excited about the wedding planning that he couldn’t help but smile. Anything that made her happy made him happy. 

“We certainly are, sweetheart,” he agreed, pulling their joined hands up to kiss the back of hers. “Let’s go, before we’re late.” 

The happy couple entered the building through the revolving glass door and made their way to the lifts. The consultant’s firm was on the thirtieth floor, so Ian pressed the corresponding button and the lift took off. Unbidden, a vision of shagging Rose up against the mirrored lift walls sprung to mind, and he had to fight to keep something else from springing to attention as well. Having her was nearly all he’d been able to think about since they’d come so tantalizingly close to making love beside the loch. Bloody hell, he was never going to make it to her six-week checkup on the twenty-first. 

The lift dinged and Rose smiled at him before she stepped off. They were greeted by a beautiful reception area, tastefully decorated in light colors, with the expected bridal portraits on the walls. Rose checked them in with the receptionist and the two of them had a seat on the sumptuous sofa in the waiting area. She picked up one of the several photo albums that lay on the table in front of them and started flipping through it, commenting on things she liked and bypassing things she didn’t.

“What do you think of this?” she asked, pointing to a photograph of a cake.

He curled his lip. “It doesn’t have any fucking icing.”

“It’s called a ‘naked’ cake, Ian,” Rose explained patiently as she flipped the page. “They’re very in style right now.”

He glanced around the reception area then leaned over to murmur in her ear. “The only thing I’m interested in being naked on our wedding day is you, when I get you home that night. And oh, the things I’m going to do to you, Rose Tyler…”

As he’d hoped, Rose flushed scarlet and swatted him, not meeting his eye. He chuckled, smug, and did his best not to let his mind wander too far into the territory he’d just led her. If he did, he very well may have to stop at the chemist’s on the way home to buy a box of condoms. An economy-sized box.

“Miss Tyler? Dr. Docherty?” 

Ian and Rose looked up to spot a woman with long red hair and a kind smile coming towards them, hand outstretched. She wore a smart pink suit and walked briskly in her high heels. Ian pegged her to be in her late thirties, and she was attractive but not gorgeous. Not the sort of woman that would have turned his head when he was single, but she looked like the sort that could be a bloke’s best mate. 

“Hello,” Rose said, getting to her feet and extending her hand. “Yes. I’m Rose and this,” she put her hand on Ian’s chest, “is my fiance, Ian. You must be Ms. Noble.”

“Call me Donna,” the woman smiled. “Welcome to Noble Events. I’ve so been looking forward to meeting you.”

“You come very highly recommended,” Rose said, and Ian was pleased to note that his fiancee’s smile was genuine. She seemed instantly at ease with this event planner, and that raised the woman’s merit in his book. 

“I’m happy to hear that. Won’t you come to my office?” She turned and led the way down the corridor, and Ian took Rose’s hand before they followed. 

Donna held the door open when they got there and Ian and Rose went inside. It was also beautifully, tastefully decorated, although this room reflected a bit of its tenant’s personality. Glass paperweights in swirled colors sat on the desk and the bookshelves were filled with albums, photographs, and the occasional knickknack. It lent the office a much less sterile, more home-like atmosphere and Ian felt more at ease. 

“Have a seat,” Donna said, directing them to the couch, then shut the door behind herself. She went towards her desk to pick up a leather portfolio with a legal pad inside and a pen, then came to sit across from Ian and Rose. “I usually start by getting to know my couples a bit before we start planning, if that’s alright with you. Each couple has their own personality, and I like to try to incorporate as much of that as possible into the shower and wedding. Of course, a lot of the questions I typically ask just came out in last week’s Lifetime Magazine...”

Rose grinned. “Yeah, we’re a bit unusual in that respect.” She squeezed his hand, snapping him out of a quick daydream about having her over the desk in his study, and stopping his quick mental countdown of the hours until he could have her again. “Ian?” she asked, sounding concerned. “Are you alright?”

“Fine!” he smiled, speaking for the first time and mentally chastising himself for losing focus. Rose deserved better than that. _Get it together, Docherty._

Donna shot him a quick look then turned and smiled at Rose. “So you two met last year.”

“Yes, at my parents’ vow renewal in September,” Rose answered. “I went to take a break out on the terrace and Ian followed.” She smiled at him brilliantly. “I never would have dreamed that that moment would change my life forever.”

“Me, neither,” Ian said honestly, squeezing her hand and smiling at her. “Glad it did, though.”

Her tongue appeared the corner of her mouth. “Me, too.”

“So you’ve been together since September?”

Ian squirmed a little internally, but Rose didn’t flinch. “No, not exactly. There was a… connection right away, but we only admitted our love for each other in early April.” Donna hummed a little while she was making notes and Rose seemed to second guess herself. “I’m sure that must seem fast…”

The redhead waved her hand. “Please. I’ve had couples on that couch planning a wedding the week after they met. When you know, you know, right?”

“Right,” Ian agreed, doing his best to shove away a vision of making love to Rose on the couch, wrapped in her pink blanket. He cleared his throat. “Once I knew Rose loved me, marrying her was all I was able to think about. I can’t wait to make it a reality.”

“Well that’s why I’m here,” Donna smiled. “To help make that happen. Now. What kind of vision did you have for your wedding?”

Ian and Rose looked at each other. “I’m not sure that either of us has a vision…” she hedged. 

Donna gave her a knowing look. “Rose, I’ve been in this business for fifteen years and I’ve planned hundreds of weddings. In all of that time, none of the brides I ever met had _no_ idea what they wanted. Surely you must have daydreamed some…?”

“Of course.”

“Tell me about it,” Donna commanded, perching her pen on the notepad, ready to write. 

Rose gave him an unsure look, then started. “I mean, I’d like to wear a wedding gown and carry flowers… people throwing rice and cutting the cake and all that. The traditional English wedding, I suppose. Ian is half-Italian and half-Scottish, so we’d like to honor that, as well.”

“That won’t be a problem,” she assured them with an airy wave. “I’ve done loads of Scottish weddings, and more than a few Italian ones. Approximately how many attendants?” Rose looked at her blankly, then Donna clarified. “Bridesmaids and groomsmen?”

“Oh. Likely just one for me, my mate Mickey. I haven’t asked him, though.”

Donna glanced at Ian. “And for you?”

Ian’s answer was instant. “My brother. He’ll be my best man.”

“Alright. You lot don’t have any friends you’d like to include?”

Rose looked over at him again then back to Donna. “We’ll have to think more about that. Ian has more friends than I do,” she smiled. 

“We’ll want to include our daughter somehow,” Ian said, offering his first real input of the day. “I’m not sure how that would work, though.”

“Hmm… I have some ideas. Where would you like to hold the wedding?”

“Mum wants to have it at the mansion, but I always figured I’d get married in a church.”

Donna’s eyes twinkled at her. “See? I told you you’d had ideas.”

Rose flushed. “I suppose you’re right.”

The pink of Rose’s cheeks spread a little, down her neck, and once his eyes were already sliding in that direction, it was easy for Ian to let his gaze wander to the hint of cleavage she was showing. 

“Dr. Docherty.” Donna had a somewhat sharp tone, and Ian knew he’d been caught out. 

He cleared his throat. “Ian, please.”

“Alright, Ian. Is a church alright by you?”

“Anything Rose wants is fine by me, anything at all.”

“Will you be wearing your tartan?”

“If Rose wants, then yes.” Rose nodded and he squeezed her hand.

“What colors?”

“My plaid is red and green.”

“Oh,” Rose said, sounding disappointed. “I hadn’t thought about having to match your clan colors.”

“You don’t have to,” both Ian and Donna rushed to assure her, and Ian let the expert handle it. “You can have whatever colors you like. What date are you two looking at?”

“24 November.”

“Actually, sweetheart, that’s a Scottish tradition we could honor.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s good luck to marry on Sunday.”

“So the twenty-fifth?” Donna offered.

Rose smiled at him. “The twenty-fifth it is.”

“Alright then,” Donna commented, noting the date on her pad and underlining it twice. “Autumn weddings are my favorite, personally, and I’m available that weekend. So you want to get married at a church?” 

“Well, I don’t want to upset Mum…”

“Sweetheart, this is your wedding, not hers,” Ian reminded her. “You don’t have to please her.”

“But I’m her only child. This is huge for her.”

“It’s much bigger for us, Rose.” She sighed and he squeezed her hand. “I know it goes against your nature, but I need you to dig in and be selfish, here. This wedding is entirely about what _you_ want.”

“And you.”

“All I want is for you to be happy. I know that sounds trite, but it’s true.”

Rose’s eyes sparkled with moisture. “I love you.”

He kissed her nose. “I love you, too. Now. Why don’t we see about getting married at Sotheby Cathedral? It’s not far from the mansion, so we could still hold the reception there, if you like. That should make your mum happy.”

“You’re brilliant,” she praised him, then stretched to kiss him. 

“That all sounds fantastic,” Donna interrupted the kiss, and he was charmed to see Rose flush again before she bit her lip and turned back to pay attention to Donna. “Sotheby Cathedral holds up to five hundred people. Do you anticipate that many guests?”

Rose laughed. “Not remotely. I was thinking more along the lines of a hundred to a hundred and fifty or so.”

“Ian?”

“Agreed.”

Donna sat her portfolio down on the table between them and got up to go to the bookshelf. Ian took advantage of her momentary distraction to rake his gaze up and down Rose, giving her a saucy wink when she caught him at it. She blushed and swatted his leg, but her tongue came to the corner of her mouth. He kissed her, just because he could, Donna be damned. 

“What are your favorite colors, Rose?”

“I love pink,” she answered at once. “But I’m not sure I want it for the wedding.”

“You can have it if you want,” Ian assured her.

She squeezed his hand. “I know. And Mum will probably want it, or at least expect it. I just… I want it to be elegant, and I suppose I associate pink with babies now, since Eleanor.”

“Pink doesn’t have to be babyish at all.”

“I know,” Rose said again, a little sheepishly. “I guess maybe red?”

“It doesn’t have to be a solid color,” Donna explained patiently. “Although we can do that if you want. A bouquet of solid-color roses is traditional and beautiful, but the sky’s the limit as far as palettes go. Whatever you want.”

“Pink and red?” Ian suggested, feeling more than a little out of his depth but hoping to please her. “Anything you like, sweetheart.”

“Hmm… speaking of… what do you think of this?” Donna flipped through the large album in her hand, stopping suddenly and turning the book around to face Ian and Rose. Ian looked at the photograph intently - it was of a bouquet of flowers in deep burgundy and a pale pink. 

“Oh, that’s _gorgeous_ ,” Rose cooed.

“If you’re still opposed to pink, we could always use this,” she offered, flipping to another page and showing a bouquet in a dark purple, ivory and muted orange. 

Ian gave an incredulous, “ _Purple_ and _orange_?”

Donna gave him a look. “That’s _plum and pumpkin_ ,” she corrected, sounding a bit snarky. “They’re traditional fall colors, but not as frequently used. In fact, I’ve only ever used them twice. And I’ve only used the blush and burgundy twice as well, so you’d be a trendsetter.”

“What about Ian’s tartan?” Rose asked, sounding concerned. “I’d like to incorporate his colors, but I absolutely love this.”

“How about this?” She flipped a couple of pages then offered the book again. There again was a bouquet in autumn tones, primarily the _plum and pumpkin_ , but there was a little red and green mixed in as well that would compliment his plaid.

“Oh, that’s lovely,” Rose breathed, putting her hand on the picture and tracing it with the tips of her fingers. “Look, Ian.”

He was looking, but he was mostly looking at the rapt look on Rose’s face. Instead of picking apart the colors of the bridal bouquet she was admiring, he pictured her carrying that bouquet, walking down the aisle to him. He imagined her laughing at their reception, dancing with him, that bouquet in her joined hands that were around his neck. Then he imagined sneaking away with her during the dancing into a secluded corner of a quiet room, throwing that bouquet to the side and pressing her against the wall…

“ _Ian_.”

He snapped back to attention again. Rose was looking at him with concern, but Donna looked like a mix between amused and annoyed. 

“Blimey. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a groom quite like this one. I’ll have to start calling you ‘spaceman’, the way you zone out on me.”

He gave her a sour look for just a moment then remembered his manners. “I’m sorry. My mind wandered. You were saying?”

“I was giving the two of you homework,” Donna said. “We have a little over five months to plan and execute this wedding. Rose, are you familiar with Pinterest?”

She shook her head. “No. I mean, I’ve heard of it, but…”

“I want you to get yourself a Pinterest account and create a board for this wedding. Go through and pin anything and everything that takes your fancy. Cakes, flowers, dresses, traditions, centerpieces, favors, whatever. Any color, any theme, whatever you like. The more you give me to work with, the better. Invite me to your board so I can see what you’re up to. Then we’ll meet back here in about a week and get a more fully-formed plan. In the meantime, if you’re sure, I’ll book the cathedral - the sooner we do that, the better. What do you say to that?”

Rose looked over at Ian and shrugged. “That sounds fine to me. I’m sure Mum will be happy to keep Eleanor again.”

“Or you can bring her,” Donna smiled. “I love babies.”

“Alright,” Rose smiled back. 

“Now it’s time for my least favorite part of these meetings - the money.”

“Don’t worry about money,” Ian volunteered at once. “There is no budget.”

“Don’t be daft,” Donna scoffed. “Of course there’s a budget.”

“There’s really not,” he insisted. “Between her father and me, there’s no limit.”

“I have to have hard numbers to work with,” Donna explained a bit impatiently. 

“What was the budget of the biggest, most extravagant wedding you’ve ever done?”

“Two and a half million pounds.”

“Double it.”

“Ian!” Rose gasped. “Are you out of your mind?”

“I’m deadly serious. Your mum wants the event of the century, and you deserve to be treated like a princess, sweetheart, especially on that day. You don’t have to spend that much, but the money is there if you want it. Consider it a cushion. There’s nothing you can’t have, nothing at all. If you want to ride to the church on the back of a fucking albino elephant, we’ll make that happen.”

Tears welled and fell from her lashes, but she was giving him a watery smile. “You’re mad.”

“Half mad in love with you, sweetheart.”

“I don’t need that much.”

“You deserve ten times that.”

“We won’t spend that much,” Donna broke into their conversation - again. “I’m the best wedding planner in Chiswick. We could have the event of the century on a tenth of that. You’ll see.”

Ian had his doubts, but didn’t voice them. It didn’t matter. As long as his sweetheart got everything her heart desired, it was worth every penny.


	91. Chapter 91

18 June 2012

It was quiet in the house for the first time in weeks, the only sounds being the clicking of Eleanor’s swing in the lounge and the occasional tapping of Rose’s fingers on the computer in Ian’s study. Ian had gone back for his first day of work after lengthy and protracted goodbyes to both Rose and the baby that morning and had been anxiously texting her every thirty minutes or so. She’d done her best to soothe and reassure him, even snapping and sending a couple of photos of Eleanor to help ease his mind. For her part, she missed him terribly but was determined not to be clingy. 

As if she’d summoned him, the mobile went off on the desk beside her. 

~Ian: _what can I pick up to bring for lunch?_  
~Rose: _you don’t have to come home_  
~Ian: _I think I may burst if I don’t see you and the baby soon. it’s been hours_

Rose chuckled. Her daft bloke. 

~Rose: _we’re not going anywhere, handsome. we’ll be here when you get off at five_  
~Ian: _dumplings? burgers?_  
~Rose: _just go eat with Clara and come home when you get off. I’ll see you then. You could use the fresh air_  
~Rose: _besides, Mum is on her way_

He didn’t respond to that and Rose smirked. Not his ideal way to spend lunch, she was sure. Bless his heart, he was probably completely torn between annoyance that he couldn’t get her all to himself and relief that she wouldn’t be alone. Under different circumstances, she’d have been annoyed with her mum coming, too. She was dying to get him back into bed, and a lunchtime quickie sounded heavenly right now - but she knew that even if her mother _wasn’t_ coming, he’d never go through with it. Not until she was cleared to have sex again - hopefully on Thursday at her six-week checkup.

After a minute or so, she figured he was with a patient and went back to what she had been doing - searching Pinterest and daydreaming about her wedding day. She’d pinned nearly a hundred things for them to go over when they went back to see Donna Thursday after her appointment with Dr. Ross. Most of what she had pinned had to do with traditions she’d like to observe and color palettes she liked - although she hadn’t found anything she liked more than what she’d been shown in the office last week. Those had been gorgeous and Ian hadn’t seemed to mind. Heaven knew he’d been fairly vocal about a couple of other things she’d suggested, like the naked cake. He’d joined her a few times while she did the ‘homework’ Donna had assigned them and browsed for ideas, but although he’d rather die than admit it, he clearly wasn’t as interested in the planning duties as she was, so she let him off the hook as often as she could. He’d be there if she wanted him to be, she was sure, but she didn’t plan on pushing him into anything. In fact, she’d considered telling him he could stay home with the baby if he wanted and she’d meet with Donna on her own. She’d also thought about taking her mother in his place, but wanted to make a few more decisions before her mum started weighing in - like about the colors. Jackie would want pink, Rose knew. And after looking at more of the ideas under ‘burgundy and blush,’ like the first bouquet Donna had shown her, the idea was starting to grow on her quite a bit.

The doorbell rang and Rose got to her feet, going to peek in the lounge at Eleanor before she went to the door. When she was sure the baby was still sleeping, she went to the front of the house and smiled when she opened the door for her mother. 

“Mum, hi!” she smiled. “Come on in.”

“Where’s the baby?” Jackie asked without preamble.

Rose rolled her eyes and accepted a quick hug. “Good to see you, too. She’s asleep in her swing, but she should be awake before long. Come on in, you can help me do some wedding browsing.”

Rose was a little surprised when Jackie actually followed her into the study and didn’t insist on going to the baby. Her mother seemed a little tense, and was clutching her purse in an unusual way. Rose didn’t comment, didn’t think much of it, really, she just pulled over another chair to Ian’s desk and they both sat down.

“I have something for you,” Jackie said, surprising Rose.

“Oh? Something for me?”

“It may come as a shock…” Jackie hedged, her hands still clenched on the purse in her lap. 

Dread washed over Rose, cold and stark, and she didn’t know what her mum had to say, but she wasn’t sure she wanted her to know, either. 

“What’s wrong, Mum?”

“Nothing’s wrong, sweetheart, don’t panic. It’s just… Do you remember a few months ago when there was a wobble at the wall to the universe and the hoppers powered on for a minute?”

“Yes.”

“That happened again. It happened --”

“When Eleanor was born,” Rose finished for her quietly, surprising her mum into silence. “I know. I felt it.”

“You _felt_ it?”

“The Doctor - something happened. He regenerated. It took a long time, though. He fought it. But that’s why Eleanor came early. He couldn’t fight it anymore.”

Jackie was pale, shocked. “Sweetheart…”

Rose gave her a little smile. “It’s okay, Mum. I’m fine. I’m curious how you know about this, though.”

“You’re right. The hoppers powered on again while you were in labor. They flickered on and off, mostly, but they were on long enough for your mobile from the other universe to gain some charge.”

“My mobile?” 

Jackie opened her purse and pulled out an envelope. Her mother looked down at it pensively, as if trying to decide what to do. Rose looked at it with a mix of wariness and hunger. “Pete took the liberty of downloading all of the photographs off of it and printing them out. He gave them to me and I have them all. But I picked out a few I thought you might want to see.”

Rose accepted the envelope and stared at it, wide-eyed. Memories from the other universe crashed over her and she felt paralyzed by them. 

There were pictures of the Doctor in her hands. 

“If you don’t want them, I’ll take them back to Pete and have them all destroyed.” Jackie’s hand came into Rose’s line of sight and covered her hands. “You don’t have to look at them, love. You don’t have to do this.”

“No,” Rose said, doing her damndest to shake herself out of her reverie, feeling a little dizzy. “No, don’t take them away.”

With trembling hands, she opened the envelope and pulled out the stack of glossy photos. Right on top was a photo of herself the day she’d gotten her phone. She was with Mickey, of course, and the two of them smiled together in the pub. She’d torn his attention away from the match long enough to pose with her. Blimey, he looked younger - but she did, too. 

She flipped the picture. 

There she was with Shareen and Keisha on a girls’ night out. She was wearing a slinky little red dress - something she’d never dare wear now - and it showed off all of her curves. She hadn’t been on the pull, per se, but she and Mickey had been having problems, she’d felt neglected, and the attention she knew she would get at the club while wearing that dress had been welcome. Keisha and Shareen were dressed similarly and the women had their arms linked around each other, absolutely sure that they were the hottest tickets in London. Rose felt a pang, missing her old friends.

She flipped the picture. 

The sight of the Doctor, her first Doctor, her leather Doctor, made her eyes fill with tears at once. She’d treasured this photo and looked at it often in her phone after his regeneration. They were on an uninhabited planet in the Ployunides sector, he’d brought her there when he was looking for a specific herb for some reason he’d explained at ninety miles a minute and she couldn’t recall now. The twin suns had been setting and the lighting had been gorgeous. She’d called his name, he’d looked up at her with that bright, daft grin and she’d snapped his photo. His blue eyes twinkled in the photo the way she loved so much and she let herself fall into them a little now, looking at him again. 

She flipped the picture. 

There was Jack, good old Jack, with his arm tossed around Rose as the two of them slumped, relaxed in the jump seat after they’d left Raxacoricofallapatorius, returning Blon Fel Fotch to give her a second chance to be a good person. The Doctor had been tinkering with her mobile to improve storage and taken the photo of her and Jack. By this time, the Doctor’s obvious jealousy towards Jack had abated and they could get away with a little harmless flirting without him glowering at them. There was an easy camaraderie with Jack, always - after her dance with the Doctor, Jack had been demoted from his short-lived and tenuous place as romantic interest and relegated to confidante. They’d talked and talked, Jack telling her stories about his travels and adventures as a time agent and Rose confessing her love for the Doctor. Oh, what she wouldn’t give for one more of his big hugs. 

She flipped the picture. 

Rose was dressed to go to a ball on Buelia 9, and the Doctor had uncharacteristically agreed to dress in the local fashion to accompany her. Jack had posed them beside the console and even now, a universe away, Rose could almost hear the approving little chime the TARDIS had given when the Doctor had asked if they looked alright. His arm was around her waist possessively, as it so often had been, and he’d kept up the possessive act all that night, dancing with her under the many constellations of the Drilles galaxy until the capitol had been invaded and they’d been called to action. After that was sorted, they had gone to Kyoto and Rose’s phone had had to be hidden away, lest it frighten the locals. 

She flipped the picture. 

Her new new Doctor laid beside her on an overcoat, and the two of them smiled up at the camera on Rose’s phone. She could still smell the applegrass and feel the way she felt that day when they landed on New Earth, their first adventure away from home after he regenerated. She’d been charmed by this new Doctor once she recognized the blue eyes in the brown, and everything had felt fresh and new and joyful, like a story just starting. He’d clearly felt the same way - it was obvious in both of their faces in the photo. 

She flipped the picture. 

There had been adventures, the two of them had gotten impossibly closer, and Rose had never felt that way before in her life. After the Satan Pit and defying the devil himself, they’d quit dancing around each other and admitted what they felt, easing into a relationship. Cuddles on the couch suddenly had _meaning_ and there were kisses and caresses. This photo showed the two of them on a break from just such activities, and Rose flushed a little at the way she was flushed in the photo. Her head was on the Doctor’s shoulder and she was snuggled up to him under her pink blanket, happy and in love with him. His head was turned, smiling softly at her, happy and in love with her.

A tear splashed on the photo, landing on the Doctor’s sideburn. 

“Are you alright?”

Rose was a maelstrom. She’d thought she’d never see him again, and she wouldn’t, yet here was a photo in her hands of the man - the _Time Lord_ she’d loved. Her memory had served her correctly, she hadn’t forgotten a thing, and she ran a finger along his handsome profile. Love had never felt like that before and she -

Rose’s mobile buzzed on the desk beside her, startling her, snapping her back into reality. 

~Ian: _fyi, because I haven’t told you in the last hour, I love you._

Another tear splashed down, landing on the screen of her mobile this time.

“Are you alright, Rose?”

She nodded, sniffing, then raised her head to her mum. “I’m fine.”

“Are you wishing you could go back?”

In the next room, Eleanor whimpered and stirred. It further cleared Rose’s thoughts.

“No,” she answered at once, “I’m not. I miss him sometimes, I miss things that we did together, and I’ll never have another adventure like that. But what happened was what was meant to happen, what was meant to be. I’m meant to be here with Ian - and there’s nowhere in any universe at all I’d rather be. Even if I could go back, I wouldn’t. Not for anything in the world.”

“Are you sure?”

Rose nodded and wiped her cheeks, clearing them and sniffing hard. “The Doctor is gone. His regeneration… I don’t think it went well. The Doctor I knew - he’s gone. I loved him, Mum, but I love Ian just as much, if not more. And he’s _here_.” She indicated the photos in her hand. “The Doctor loved me, but not the way Ian does. This,” she tapped the photo of herself and the Doctor, “is my past. Ian is my future. Ian and Eleanor.”

The baby grew more insistent in the next room and Rose swiped the tears away hurriedly. She had a life now, people that depended on her, and looking back did her no good. Without looking at them again, Rose shoved the photos back into the envelope then opened the bottom drawer of the desk and dropped them in unceremoniously. She’d decide what to do about them later. With one last, great sniff, she wiped her cheeks clear of any remaining, stray tears and gave her mother her best smile.

“Thank you for bringing them, Mum. I’m going to go change Eleanor and then we can go over wedding plans, if you like.”

Jackie placed a hand on Rose’s knee and got to her feet. “I’ll get the baby. You stay here, get yourself together, collect your thoughts.”

Rose nodded and Jackie got to her feet, heading to the next room. Her thoughts didn’t really need to be gathered. She’d been shaken for a moment, but as they always did, Ian and Eleanor had grounded her. Looking back had been bittersweet, but that was over. 

The mobile buzzed on the desk again, reminding her that she had an unanswered text, and she smiled at it before picking it up and unlocking it. 

~Rose: _you don't know how timely that was. I love you, too._  
~Ian: _are you alright?_  
~Rose: _top of the world. why don't you come home for lunch after all? I need to kiss you._  
~Ian: _absolutely, sweetheart. be there in twenty. is your mum there?_  
~Rose: _yep_  
~Ian: _damn_

Rose laughed at her bloke, the man who would be her husband, the man who held her heart. She empathized completely.


	92. Chapter 92

21 June 2012

Ian wasn’t accustomed to coming in through the main entrance of his office, but Rose insisted that they go in that way this morning for her appointment. He couldn’t understand her fucking logic, it seemed daft to him, but he went along with her with only minimal bitching. The result would be the same, he was sure. 

He was right.

Eleanor was snuggled in his arms and Rose led the way into the building. She wasn’t even halfway across the lobby before there was a squawk from behind the counter and Margaret shot to her feet, rallying the other administrative workers. “They’re here! You lot, they’re here!”

He shot a look at Rose, who was beaming and looking back up at him, and without speaking, they stopped their approach and waited. Within moments, all four of the front desk ladies were around the desk and surrounding them. 

“Oh, Doctor, she’s precious,” Margaret cooed. “We’ve seen pictures, of course, but they don’t do her justice.”

“Thank you,” he said proudly. “We think she’s rather pretty ourselves.”

“You named her Elizabeth?” one of the other ladies, Danette, asked. 

“Eleanor,” Rose corrected. “Eleanor Grace Docherty.”

The baby in question stared up at her father and when he looked down at her, catching her eye, her face blossomed into a smile. “Eleanor Docherty,” he agreed. “Daddy’s Little Face.”

They were inundated with the typical questions everyone had: Was she a good baby? Was she sleeping through the night? How was parenthood? Ian and Rose answered them all as patiently as possible, then, with a pointed look at a patient who was standing at the empty front desk and another look at the clock, the women got the message and went back to work. 

Margaret patted Rose’s arm before she left. “Rose, dear, you and the Doctor can go on back. I’ll let Dr. Ross know you’re here and she’ll send Brandi to his office to get you when she’s ready.” 

Ian scoffed. “I doubt we’ll even make it to my office.”

He proved to be right again. 

Margaret had apparently not only rang Brandi, she’d rung Clara as well and Ian’s head nurse had picked up a crowd along the way to meet and greet them. He tensed when he saw the group of excited women coming for him; Rose must have sensed it because she put her hand on the small of his back and said, “It’s fine.”

“She’s here! Oh, Doctor, she gets prettier every day,” Clara cooed as soon as she was close enough before pulling Rose into a hug. 

“Thank you,” Rose said with a smile. 

“I haven’t seen her in a week… I think she’s grown!” Clara cried. It sprung to Ian’s lips to be snarky about how she was an infant and therefore supposed to be growing like a weed, but he bit it back. There was no need for him to rain on her parade. 

The other nurses went on about how gorgeous she was, congratulating him, and he was amused to see Clara almost holding court with her coworkers, subtly bragging about spending time with Rose and the baby due to his close relationship with her. She’d apparently been bringing photos with her to work and Ian couldn’t help but be warmed to see how much his daughter was adored already. 

Once the other nurses started clearing out, she said, “Bill wanted to come by yesterday after work, but we got sidetracked. Do you have plans tonight?”

“Possibly,” Rose said, then flushed to the roots of her hair. Ian caught her meaning at the same time Clara smirked. 

“We’ll aim for this weekend, then,” she said with a grin and a meaningful look at Rose. The two of them burst into giggles and Ian muttered under his breath, trying not to be amused. 

“Rose?” Brandi said from the end of the corridor, and Ian perked up. Rose acknowledged the other nurse, told Clara she’d see her in just a few minutes and gave her a parting hug, then went to follow Brandi. Ian, of course, followed her. 

Five minutes later, after giving a urine sample and getting her weight, Rose put on the gown and hopped onto the examination table.

“You’re much more spry doing that now than you were last time you were here.”

Rose snorted. “Last time I was here, I was carrying a human around inside me.”

“Yes, you were,” he agreed. The tiny human in question made a little noise and he looked down at her. She smiled up at her daddy and Ian melted into a puddle. 

A sharp knock came at the door and Ian’s head snapped to attention. Christine came inside and closed the door behind her, smiling at them. “There’s the happy family. Let me see that girl.” She stepped over and peered down at Eleanor, who studied her for a second then gave a little hint of a smile. Christine stroked the baby’s hair gently. “She’s gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” Ian and Rose chorused and Christine turned her attention to Rose. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Great! Just tired, of course.”

“Of course. Any unusual pain or bleeding?”

Rose shook her head. “No, everything is fine.”

“Have you gotten your monthly yet?”

There was a hint of a flush on Rose’s cheeks. “No, not yet.”

“That’s not unusual. It could take a few more weeks, especially if you’re breastfeeding.”

“I am,” she confirmed. 

Christine made a mark on her chart then set it to the side. “Go ahead and lay back, Rose, and we’ll take a quick look.”

Rose shot him a quick, shy smile, then did as asked. Eleanor squirmed and fussed a little, so Ian reached down into the nappy bag to grab a bottle and began feeding her, focusing his attention on the baby while Rose had her exam. 

“Everything looks good,” Christine announced, offering Rose a hand to help her sit up. “Your urine came back clean and you’re only six pounds heavier than the day I met you. That’s remarkable.”

“Thank you.”

“I understand from Brandi that you wanted to do the implant?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I can insert that today and it’s effective immediately, so no worries. It won’t affect your cycle in any way, and the hormones are harmless to the baby. Although I’m sure Ian’s already told you all about it.”

“He has,” Rose confirmed. 

“Brilliant,” Christine said, picking up her chart again and looking at it. “On the way out of the building, I’d like you to stop by the lab and have a little blood drawn. I know how you feel about needles, but Torchwood has asked for some testing to make sure that carrying Eleanor didn’t have too much of an effect on you.”

Rose swallowed but nodded, and Ian spoke up. “It’ll be fine, sweetheart. I’ll be with you the whole time.” To Christine he asked, “What tests? What are they looking for?”

“Nothing in particular that I can tell. It’s just a CBC and check of organ functions. Liver, kidney… They’ve requested a pregnancy test, but I feel like we don’t need to --” She caught sight of Ian and Rose’s blushing faces and her shoulders dropped. “Really, Ian?”

“What?” he protested, futile though it may be.

“You couldn’t wait six weeks?”

“It was me,” Rose interjected, her face scarlet. “I, um, I talked him into it. It only happened the once, though. He wouldn’t do it again until you gave the all-clear.”

“You’re not being scolded, Rose,” Christine assured her in a much more kindly tone than she’d likely use with him later. “I’m just concerned for your health.”

Eleanor wiggled a little and Ian looked down at her, letting all the vitriol he could spew fade away. 

“Anyway, you’re cleared for normal activities. Be sure and watch for… oh, nevermind,” she sounded exasperated and amused. “Docherty knows what to watch for.”

Ian could have cheered, but didn’t. He tried his best not to let his excitement show, and he absolutely did _not_ look at Rose right then. There was no way he’d have been able to refrain from eye-shagging her.

“Brandi will be in in a minute to assist with the implant. Rose, do you mind if I steal Ian away for just a moment? Won’t take two seconds.”

She looked as surprised as Ian felt, but shrugged. “Sure, I suppose.”

Ian transferred the baby over to Rose, giving her a quick kiss and telling her he’d be right back, then followed Christine out of the exam room.

“What’s this about?” he asked, but Christine didn’t answer. She opened the door to her office and let Ian in, then closed it behind them. 

“Torchwood sent me a copy of the DNA results. I don’t understand them, but I assume they do.”

“I don’t understand it, either, to be honest,” he admitted. 

“She’s your daughter.”

“Yes.”

“But you still maintain that you didn’t impregnate Rose.”

“I did not.”

Christine shook her head. “ _How?_ ”

That was a question that was continuing to grow in Ian’s brain, nagging at him more and more. “I don’t know. But it happened, it is what it is, and I couldn’t be happier about it.”

“Yes, well, it seems I owe you an apology, Docherty. I didn’t believe that you weren’t the father --”

“I _am_ the father.”

“Yes, you are, but I was wrong in thinking that something else wasn’t at play here when it clearly is. I’m sorry, Ian.”

He considered drawing it out a bit, but his sweetheart and little face were waiting three rooms away. So he nodded. “Accepted. Thank you.”

Christine smirked a little then. “But seriously, you couldn’t wait six weeks?”

“She’s twenty-five, hotter than hell, and for some unfathomable reason, she’s in love with me. I’m not a fucking idiot. But I never would have hurt her.”

“I know that. Just make sure I’m invited to the wedding.”

“Of course.”

“Thank you. Now come on,” she said, opening the door again. “Let’s go place this implant so you don’t have to worry about fathering _another_ baby just yet. Assuming you haven’t already…”

Ian sighed. Yes, assuming that.

~*~O~*~

Several hours later, after leaving his office, having lunch with his two girls, and then heading to Donna’s office for more wedding planning, Ian checked the baby’s seat one more time to make sure it was secure before he dropped a kiss to her sleeping forehead and went to the driver’s seat. Rose was just finishing her buckle when he took his seat, buckled, and cranked the SUV. He was anxious to get his girls home.

“Thank you for coming with me,” she said, sounding almost a little shy. “I know this isn’t your idea of fun…”

He raised their joined hands and kissed the back of hers. “I’m spending time with you, sweetheart. It’s plenty fun.”

Rose scoffed, but didn’t argue with him. 

“Are you happy with the way things are coming together?”

“So far. It all kinda seems surreal sometimes, you know? Talking about us actually getting married.”

“Surreal in a good way?” he double checked. 

She beamed at him. “In the best possible way.”

Ian smirked a little at that while he made a turn. 

“I got a text from your dad, though. Apparently your mum is feeling left out.”

Rose sighed heavily. “I knew it was only a matter of time.”

“I don’t have to be involved, sweetheart. Not really, not if you and your mum would rather do it on your own.”

“No,” she protested, “I definitely want you involved. It’s your day, too, Ian. We’re kick-starting the rest of our lives. I want you to look back on it and be happy.”

He couldn’t help but think back two decades to the period before his wedding to Jenn. She couldn’t have given less of a shit about his opinion, and when he’d offered it, she generally just ignored him. She’d been fully intent on making the wedding an event to remember, bleeding the budget dry very quickly. Ian had been forced to hide money from her so she wouldn’t bleed _them_ dry, as well. The focus had been entirely on her and the pomp of a big to-do, very little was paid to Ian or the rest of their lives. Rose, on the other hand, while she was interested in having a nice wedding, almost seemed to see the wedding itself as a means to an end. Her goal was not really to have a great party, it was to be married to him. 

The mind boggled. 

Ian and Rose’s phones both went off at the same moment and he glanced down to see that it was a text from Christine. 

“It’s Dr. Ross,” Rose said anxiously, and Ian’s own anxiety ratcheted up to eleven. The only reason he could think for her contacting them both was for the results of the pregnancy test she’d just taken, and his hands clenched the wheel. 

“What did she say?” he asked, tense. 

Rose slid her finger across the screen and opened her phone, then her shoulders slumped. “The pregnancy test was negative. Oh, thank _God_.”

‘Oh, thank God’ was right and Ian relaxed quite a bit, too. 

“I wasn’t ready to go through all of that again. Is that terrible of me?”

“No, sweetheart,” he assured her. “I’m not ready for another little one so soon, either. Eventually, but not yet.”

Rose smiled up at him with so much love and depth that he swore he could feel his heart take flight. He was dying to get her home, in bed with him, then make love to her until she couldn’t remember anything but his name. Instead of saying so, he just squeezed her hand. 

“We should probably go to Mum’s before we go home,” she pointed out, sounding almost reluctant. 

“Why?”

“A surprise visit would go a long way towards smoothing her feathers.”

That was true enough, but he still felt a little disappointed that they weren’t going straight home. He wanted her so badly he could barely see straight, and he wouldn’t be able to paw at her at Jackie’s the way he would at home. Which, when he thought about it, was probably for the best, since he wasn’t interested in a quick shag while the baby napped before dinner, anyway. He intended to take his time with her, to make her come apart at least twice before he had his way with her. Provided he could hold out that long, that is. With the way the front of his trousers were growing tight at the moment, that was doubtful. 

Rose broke into his thoughts. “Is that alright?”

“Fine, sweetheart, just fine.” He sounded a little overly cheery in his own ears, but she didn’t remark on it. “We’ll have dinner with your mum and dad then go home in time to watch The Yard. What do you think about that?”

“Perfect,” she agreed with her tongue peeking from the corner of her mouth. Then she caressed the back of the hand she held with her free hand. “And after The Yard goes off, we can go to bed.”

At that particular moment, Ian couldn’t give less of a fuck about waiting until the end of their show. With an extreme amount of willpower, he swallowed hard and squeezed her hand, calling her a minx. Rose just chuckled then turned back to face the road. 

Pete was not yet home from work when they arrived at the mansion, but Jackie told them he’d be back soon. It was just about all she said to the two of them, leaving them nearly forgotten on the sofa in the lounge while she rocked the baby.

“Oh, Rose, bless, she’s smiling at me again.”

“She’s doing that a lot lately,” Rose said, nuzzling into Ian’s side and laying her hand on his thigh. Even though the touch was innocuous, he felt his body respond and tamped it down as best he could, focusing on the conversation. “She’s really a very happy baby.”

“She is,” Ian agreed. “We’ve been very lucky.”

“Of course you have,” Jackie baby-talked. “You had the best baby there ever was… the prettiest and cleverest baby ever!”

Rose looked up at him and he rolled his eyes, making her have to stifle a giggle. Pleased with himself, he kissed her forehead. 

Jackie finally seemed to tire of making goo-goo eyes at Eleanor and looked up at them with a much less soft look. “How’s wedding planning?” she asked stiffly, briefly shooting daggers at Ian. 

Rose sighed. “It’s fine, Mum. You’ll really like what we’ve done so far.”

“I wouldn’t know what you’ve done so far, since you haven’t let me go to any appointments.”

“I know that,” Rose said smoothly, “but I’ll be getting you to come along soon. You’ll have your fingers in the pie before long, Mum. In fact,” she cut in smoothly when Jackie tried to talk again, “I was going to ask you about a time when Donna can come here, to the mansion, to get a look at the grounds.”

“Oh, for the reception?”

“That’s right,” Rose agreed. “She’d like to come one day next week and look over the house and grounds, probably take a few pictures. I told her I’d call her back with a time.”

“Anytime is fine! I’m here practically all the time.” Jackie sounded much more chipper now that she was going to be involved. “She can come whenever she wants.”

“Brilliant!” Rose looked up at him, smiling, and he couldn’t help but smile back, then chuckle when she shot him a conspiratorial wink then turned back to her mother. “Henry will come, too, on that day. They’ll need to discuss security.”

“That’s fine,” Jackie readily agreed, back to rocking the baby happily. “So what have you decided so far?”

“Not very much. We mostly talked about scheduling today.”

“Scheduling?”

“When everything needs to be done. We’ll be doing gown shopping before long, Mum.”

“I still don’t see why you don’t wear the dress you wore to the hospital’s awards banquet,” Ian pointed out. 

“It was a _maternity gown_ , Ian.”

“Yes, but it was white and absolutely stunning. Even had a little train.”

“It wasn’t white, it was off-white, and you’ve already seen me in it. The wedding dress is supposed to be a surprise,” she reminded him. 

“I don’t give a fuck what you wear, sweetheart, so long as you marry me. But I really liked that particular dress.”

“You just want me to wear _that particular dress_ because you have fond memories of it coming off,” Rose rebutted with a smirk and at once his brain went back to making love to her on his birthday. Her tongue was poking through her teeth again because he was sure she knew what he was thinking and he couldn’t help it, he wanted to catch it with his lips. 

His mental replay of Rose riding him and impulse to kiss her was cut short by Jackie. “I could do without knowing what you two get up to, thanks,” she groaned with her hand up in a warding-off gesture. 

“Sorry Mum,” Rose apologized, flushed. “I forgot you were here.”

Ian had, too, and wished fervently that his soon-to-be mother-in-law were _not_ sitting ten feet away. His eyes darted to the clock on the mantel and he bit back a groan of his own. Two hours until their show came on, so an hour and a half before they could leave. Three hours before he could drag her off to bed.

He could hardly wait.


	93. Chapter 93

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The authors would like to take a moment to thank every last one of you who is still reading and commenting on this fic after nearly a year. Your comments and encouragement keep us going when we feel like we can't write another word. From the bottom of our hearts, thank you. <3 
> 
> Some of you have been asking how much more there is, and I'd guess about fifteen to twenty more chapters from here, possibly less. We have through 99 written and anticipate about ten more after that.
> 
> Thank you!

21 June 2012 (cont.)

Ian and Rose had fallen into somewhat of a routine in the evenings - as much as was possible with a newborn. Eleanor was awake more and more, which delighted both of them, and the three of them usually settled into the lounge after dinner to spend time together before bed. Eleanor almost always ended up on Ian’s chest after she had her own dinner and burped, and the little family watched telly until it was time to retire. 

Tonight was a bit different. Looks between Ian and Rose had been even more lingering than usual, caresses had been a little less casual. He’d been half-hard since they left the mansion, thinking about what he and Rose were likely going to do that night, and Rose had noticed. Multiple times she’d slid her hand over his groin oh-so-softly when she passed him, smirking up at him, making his erection spring to life and his brain spiral right into the gutter. The little minx. 

After returning from dinner with her parents, they retired to the lounge as usual. Eleanor was fed, then Ian burped her and settled into his recliner with her while Rose knitted on the couch, letting the baby sleep on his chest while they watched The Yard. The anticipation for tonight that had been building for weeks subsided somewhat in the face of the scene’s quiet domesticity, and he was more content than he’d ever felt in his entire life. The only thing that could make it better would be if Rose were snuggled up next to him instead of practicing the basic stitch that Auntie had taught her. 

The end credits for The Yard started to roll, and Ian heard bustling just behind him. He craned his neck to see Rose putting her meager knitting supplies away. 

“Ready for bed?” he asked, hoping he sounded casual.

“I think so,” she said airily, getting to her feet and stretching a little. “Can you put her down?”

He pressed the button to shut off the telly. “I’ll be happy to, sweetheart.”

“Put her in her cot.”

Ian immediately froze, the remote still in his hand hovering over the side table. Eleanor had never slept the night in her cot before. That must mean…

“Her cot?”

Rose gave him a sultry look. “Her cot.”

His heart pounded. She wanted Eleanor out of their room for the night.

“Yes, ma’am,” he agreed, setting the remote down and starting to get up with the baby.

Rose winked at him, then her hips swung side-to-side when she walked towards the doorway, and he _knew_ she was torturing him on purpose. “I’m going to put on my night things. I’ll see you in a minute, yeah?”

She didn’t look back and he was glad - if she had, Ian very well may have put Eleanor down in the swing and followed her like a puppy up to their room, leaving the baby downstairs. His sweetheart had him so bewitched... 

“Be right up,” he didn’t croak, definitely _did not_ croak, and when Rose turned the corner, he could see her biting her lip on a grin. He took a deep breath and counted to ten, perched on the edge of his seat and soothing himself as best he could, then set about getting to his feet in all haste - but as gently as possible so as not to wake Eleanor. A sleeping baby was crucial for what he thought was about to come next - what he _hoped_ was coming next. Ian carried the baby to her room, checked her nappy one last time, kissed Eleanor’s forehead then laid her down and whispered, “Sleep, Little Face. Daddy needs you to sleep.”

Rose wasn’t in the bedroom when he got there, but he heard water running in the en suite. While he waited for her, he debated his own next moves. Should he change into his pyjamas like he did every night? He wasn’t a hundred percent sure that Rose meant what he hoped she meant - although he’d lay a tenner that she did. But they’d still probably fool around, even if he was wrong. Right? God, he fucking hoped so. If they didn’t, he’d never be able to sleep. The pain in his bollocks would keep him awake. 

Well, he decided, no matter _what_ , there would be no use for socks and shoes. Toeing his shoes off, he had just sat down on his side of the bed and pulled off his socks when he heard the door to the en suite open and the sound of a cleared throat. Standing up, he turned to look and his jaw dropped. 

Rose stood there, leaning against the doorway and smirking at him, wearing a black, diaphanous negligee that somehow managed to float around her even as it accented every one of her luscious curves. The material was sheer, and he could see she was wearing no undergarments save a pair of knickers that were tiny enough they probably shouldn’t count as clothing at all. But whether they should or shouldn’t didn’t matter. He’d be removing them with his teeth in short order.

Ian choked out her name, his eyes still roaming her. She pushed off the doorframe and approached him, swaying her hips and closing the distance until she was right in front of him. He didn’t touch her yet, didn’t dare touch her, afraid if he did he’d throw her on the bed and have his way with her. 

Biting her lip and smiling, Rose reached out to touch him. The tips of her fingers gliding down his cheek and over his jaw sent shivers through his entire body and he groaned when they continued down his neck. Then she opened the top button of his oxford and the noise that escaped him could only be described as a squeak.

"Sweetheart. You --"

" _Shhhh_."

He swallowed hard, his hands clenching into fists as she stretched a bit to place a kiss right at the base of his throat. Even through the cotton of his oxford, he could feel her tight nipples against his chest and fought back a groan of desire. 

“Are you wondering why I dressed this way?” she murmured against the skin of his neck. He couldn’t answer, he just nodded. “It’s because you should always wrap a gift.”

His hands came to rest on her hips, not pushing or pulling her, just lying there. He swallowed hard. “You’re a gift?” Rose nodded. “For me?”

The second button fell open beneath her fingers and Rose looked up at him from beneath her lashes. “For you,” she murmured.

Something inside of him snapped. He _took_ her mouth, swallowing her gasp and the moan that quickly followed, his hand finding the curve of her arse and pulling her flush against him to offer some small measure of relief to his now achingly hard erection.

Rose was giving as good as she got, kneading his back for a minute before she reached down and tugged his shirt and vest from his waistband. Her hands went under his clothes immediately, caressing his bare skin, scratching her nails gently down his back. 

He broke the kiss but didn’t move, his hand squeezing the flesh of her bum and holding her in place while he rolled his hips against her. Rose, for her part, immediately started pressing urgent little kisses to his neck and throat, her fingers flying between them to open his shirt. Once she had, she pushed it back over his shoulders and down his arms, forcing him to let go of her for a moment as she nipped his collarbone. Ian rolled his head back to let her do what she wanted, still rutting her. 

“Why do I get a gift?” he asked, going back to massaging her arse. 

“You’re just you. You deserve the best I can give.”

“I don’t deserve you, sweetheart,” he said in a voice that was a mix of plaintive and desperate. “I could never --”

Rose shut him up by kissing him hungrily, almost wildly. His hands left her bum to go around her back, pulling her even closer while he kissed her with everything he had. She tasted like mint and paradise, and the silky fabric of the negligee bunched nicely in his hands. He was simultaneously not ready to get rid of it and desperate to rip it off of her, toss her on the bed and fuck her until she screamed. The most intoxicating part of all of this was the knowledge that she’d love it if he did just that. 

Just when he thought he was about to lose his mind, she pushed away a little, startling him. Before he could protest, she’d grabbed his vest and pulled it over his head. He lifted his arms to help her then put them around her again, seeking her mouth, claiming it. Rose got to work on his trousers, making quick work of the button and zip, and he cried out when her hand wrapped around his aching cock. She gave a low chuckle and started pumping him up and down. 

“Sweetheart…” he panted. 

Her voice was honeyed and entirely innocent when she answered. “Yes, Ian?”

“I had plans for you,” he told her. “I was going to… _oh, fuck_ , do that again.”

She chuckled a second time as she did as requested and Ian felt his brain spark. If she did much more of this he was going to come, and he didn’t want to come all over her hand, he wanted to come inside her. Soon. 

“I wanted to make love to you tonight, sweetheart.”

“What do you think we’re doing?” she asked, and now she sounded falsely offended. 

“I wanted to make you come apart and put you back together again.”

“You always do, Ian. Every time.”

“Sweetheart…”

“Were you hoping for slow and gentle tonight?” 

Through the fog in his brain, he nodded. “Yeah.”

“But, see, Ian, I bought this naughty, skimpy little outfit in the hopes that it would drive you mad with lust,” she informed him very matter-of-factly while she stroked his cock. Her thumb rolled over the tip, catching the little jewel of moisture that had appeared there, sliding it down his shaft. “I’d hoped that you’d see me dressed this way and be absolutely helpless to take me.”

“I am, Rose. I’m completely helpless. You own me, body and soul.”

“You’re holding back.”

“I don’t want to hurt you. It’s only been --”

She stopped his lips with her finger. “It’s been long enough. Can’t wait anymore. I need you, Ian. I _need_ you.”

He opened his mouth and took her finger in, licking and sucking it, swirling his tongue around her manicured fingernail. Rose’s eyebrows shot to her hairline and she gave him the _filthiest_ smile, her eyes almost gloating. Her free hand left his cock and threaded through his hair, pulling his head down and her finger from between his lips just before their mouths crashed together again. She moaned into the kiss, making Ian even more wild, and he started tugging at her knickers to get them down her legs as quickly as possible.

Once they fell, he used every ounce of his willpower to pull away from her. They both were panting with need, and Ian took a moment to rake his gaze over her hungrily. His hands followed his eyes and came up to cup her breasts, idly measuring their heft in each hand, then tweaking her nipples a little through the sheer fabric, earning a little sound from her. 

“I think we can both get what we want,” he told her. 

“What _I_ want is to ride you like Seabiscuit,” she informed him, her tongue at the corner of her mouth. 

“Minx,” he accused. 

Rose stepped backwards slowly, away from him, then climbed up on the bed, her eyes never leaving his. “What did you mean, then?”

She was posing for him, posturing herself in the sexiest position she could, sliding herself backwards towards the pillows with one leg propped up and the other stretched out, her red-painted toes pointing at him. The skin of her legs reflected the light from the lamp, and he was entranced. Rose finally stopped sliding backwards, propping herself against their pillows and laying her hands beside herself, giving him her most seductive look. Her hair was in a delightful disarray and her dark red lippy was smudged from the kisses they’d shared beside the bed. It added to her sex-tousled look and he was dying - absolutely _dying_ \- to make her look even more debauched. 

“Well?” she asked, breaking into his increasingly filthy train of thought about wanting to taste the place she was coyly hiding between her thighs. 

“Well what?”

“What did you mean we could both get what we want?”

Right. That.

Ian pushed his trousers and pants down, kicking them away from his feet, freeing his cock, never taking his eyes off her. Rose’s eyes went to his erection automatically and her tongue touched the back of her teeth while she considered it with a little smile. Ian smirked, remembering their tryst in the shower and the way she’d watched him stroke himself with raw hunger in her eyes. On a hunch, he reached down and gripped his shaft. He was gratified when Rose sucked in a breath and bit her lip.

“What I mean is that I want to take my time with you,” he told her, climbing onto the bed and walking towards her on his knees, cock still in hand. “I want to make you come over and over again before I fuck you. But you, my impatient little sweetheart, you want me to fuck you now.”

Rose’s eyes were locked onto the rise and fall of his hand as he knelt over her. After a long moment, she looked up at him. “Yeah. I do.”

“Well,” Ian said, releasing himself and going on all fours, bending to kiss her knee lightly. “I’m more than happy to fuck you, Rose. It’s one of my favorite things to do. In fact, I’m going to fuck you now. But you’re going to have to wait for my cock.”

“Ian --”

“No, sweetheart,” he stopped her, putting his hands on her knees and spreading them apart, coming to kneel between them. “I’m going to fuck you with my hand and my mouth right now. I’m going to make you lose your mind at least once, maybe more than that. And when I just can’t stand it anymore, then you’ll get my cock.”

The negligee fell around her waist and the folds of her sex came into view. He fairly salivated to see her glistening and wet for him, waiting for him to make love to her in whatever way he saw fit. The fingers of his right hand squeezed her knee involuntarily, wanting to be inside her, and he couldn’t look anywhere but where she was spread for him. 

He was about to taste her, to use his tongue and lips to tell her how much he loved her without uttering a word, and the glinting of the diamond ring on her hand caught his eye. A surge of possessive pride roiled within him, and without any warning, he lowered his body and covered her sex with his mouth. She let out a strangled cry of, ‘Oh my God, oh my God! Yes! _Ian_!!’. Her taste exploding across his tongue was heavenly, causing his eyes to roll back in his head, and he brought his hands up under her legs to clutch at her hips and forestall a broken nose from her bucking. His nose nudged her clit, making her shout again.

For the first time, he was able to watch her while he did this for her, and her face was a revelation. She was biting her lip again, but this was no smirk. She looked to be nearly mindless with pleasure, her eyes screwed shut, soft grunts and whimpers coming from her. That was amazing, but he nearly lost his grip and his resolve when she opened her eyes and looked at him. The look in her topaz eyes almost did him in and he had to look away. 

His cock was pulsing with need and he rutted against the duvet, but that wasn’t what he wanted or needed, so he wrapped his hand around it and started stroking himself - just enough to ease the pressure. Rose was grinding herself against his face, and he moaned his pleasure. The vibrations caused her to call out to him and the sound of her voice breaking over his name, raw and needy, convinced him to step up his efforts. He let go of his cock and brought his fingers to join his mouth, sliding one finger into her sopping core. 

Rose sobbed above him and he felt her fingers thread through his hair, clutching him, guiding him. “Please don’t stop, Ian, please don’t stop…” Her pleas were redundant, really - he had no intention of stopping until she came all over his hand and mouth. 

If he was being honest, he couldn’t have stopped even if he’d wanted to. 

Within seconds of him sliding a second finger in beside the first, he had managed to sync the thrust of his hand and the caressing of his tongue with Rose’s rhythmic bucking. The words falling from her lips were filthy and positively fucking _gorgeous_ , driving him higher and higher. He suckled her clit, releasing it with a little pop, then encouraged her with his own words. 

“That’s it, sweetheart. Let go. _Fuck_ you’re gorgeous like this, all spread out and begging…”

“Ian… _God_ , please...”

“I’m going to go back to letting you ride my face, sweetheart. Tell me how much you love it.”

She shouted when his tongue returned to its previous job of spiraling and flicking her clit, and he couldn’t help the dark chuckle that escaped him. 

“Ian, please… please, Ian…”

He decided to have mercy on her - and himself - and bring her off, but he was determined to make it the best orgasm she’d ever had in her life. To that end, he slowed down his rhythm a little, earning a protesting wail from Rose, then gently - so, so gently - slid a third finger into her. Rose let out a sound that was nothing short of primal and he echoed the sentiment. At once, he went back to the rhythm he’d abandoned, now curling his fingers against her spot with each stroke. 

“Ian… Ian… _fuck_! I can’t...please…”

He watched her as she climbed, absolutely reveling in the knowledge that he was doing this to her, he was making her lose her mind, he was going to send her over the edge into oblivion. He would give her what she needed, what she craved, and then he’d shag her absolutely rotten. Just a little more…

_There._

Her entire body went rigid, her hand tightening in his hair so hard it was painful and her channel clenching around his stroking fingers. He didn’t let up, didn’t slow down, not even when he felt her juices flowing over his hand, too caught up in watching her face contort with pleasure. She was beyond language, beyond _reason_ , and he did everything he could to send her higher into the stratosphere. 

Entirely too soon, the pulling of his hair turned to pushing and she started squirming as if to get away from him. “Please, Ian… no more… I can’t…”

He stopped stroking her inner wall and slowed the thrusting of his fingers, pulling his mouth away just a little to take in his handiwork. She was collapsed backwards on the pillows, her eyes closed, panting for breath, and he absolutely swelled with pride, knowing he’d made her feel that. Just to be devious, he flicked his tongue over her clit lightly and her whole body shuddered with an aftershock. Ian couldn’t help the evil little chuckle that gave him. He got to his hands and knees, pressing little kisses on the inside of her thighs, then wiped his chin on his shoulder and crawled forward until he was hovering over top of her. 

“All right?” he teased.

“Holy shit,” she panted, and he chuckled again before he lowered his head and started pressing kisses to her cheek, trailing down the side of her neck, appreciating the fuck out of the way she trembled beneath his lips. Her hands came up to grip his head and she sighed. “Love you. Love you, Ian. Love you so much…”

“Shh, sweetheart… just relax. I love you, too.” His cock nudged her curls, bumping against her clit and making her whimper, and he ground his teeth. He couldn’t yet, he had to make absolutely sure she was ready before he went any further. But he was equally sure that if he didn’t come soon, he’d go up in flames. 

Rose’s hands started roaming, caressing the bare skin of his back, coming down to cup his bum. She rolled her hips at the same time she dug her fingers into his flesh, making him tense up. 

“My favorite arse in the world. Have I ever mentioned that?” she murmured.

“Minx,” he muttered back, doing his best not to lose control and start rutting her like some kind of animal.

“I love you,” she told him again, and his heart swelled. He didn’t answer directly, just covered her mouth with his and kissed her, channeling all the pent-up desire into the play of their tongues and lips. His cock continued to nudge her and she continued to encourage him, bringing her body up to meet the shallow thrusts he couldn’t help. 

“Please, Ian. I need you.”

He couldn’t deny her another second. Taking himself in hand briefly, he lined himself up then pushed into her slowly, watching her face intently for any sign of distress. 

"Are you alright, sweetheart?"

"I'm fine. Don't stop."

He buried himself as far as her body would allow, muttering a curse about just how goddamn _good_ it felt, then stilled to let her adjust. 

"Am I hurting you?" She shook her head but didn't look at him. "Please tell me, sweetheart. I never want to hurt you."

"No, Ian. You feel so good, I feel so full…"

He relaxed a little and laid his forehead against hers. "I love you. I love you so fucking much, Rose…"

"I love you, too."

He kissed her then, happier than he could ever remember being, fucking giddy with love.

"Ian?"

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

"I need you to fuck me now."

Ian groaned but didn’t argue. Couldn’t. He drew his hips back from her, pulling his cock nearly all the way out, then slid back in with a muttered curse. She clutched his shoulders then caressed his back, whispering encouraging nonsense. He did it again, then again, then _again_ , fucking her slow and steady with long, smooth strokes. She was so tight around him, so hot, and he couldn’t help but marvel at the way their bodies fit together perfectly. It was like she’d been made for him, her body built just to compliment his. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re so tight…”

He sped up a little, his hips surging in a dance of conquest and retreat, and she met his every move. Her arms were around him and he’d never felt so whole as he did right then. 

“I love you, Ian. I love you… I love you…”

All he could manage was her name. 

“Ian… please… more… harder, faster… please…”

Her words drove his thrusts and the room was full of the sound of his body pounding into hers, her whimpering with each impact, and him growling her name. 

On an impulse, Ian hooked one elbow under her knee and drove harder. Rose wailed her pleasure, babbling about how she was going to come again. He wanted to send her over the peak again and sped up, pushing himself as far as he could. Her nails dragged across his back, leaving angry furrows, and it only made him wilder. 

Just when he was about to plead with her, she broke. Her body squeezed his and he just managed to get out an ‘oh, fuck’ before he was coming harder than he’d ever come before, his whole body feeling like it had been turned inside out with pleasure. His entire universe spiraled out of control and down to where he was buried deeply inside of her, his seed leaving him in helpless spurts. 

He had no idea how long he stayed that way - time seemed to have lost all meaning - but eventually he found himself falling off of her over to her side, pulling her with him, their bodies still joined. 

“I love you,” he told her, gasping for breath. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Rose nestled into his arms and he held her close, drifting back to Earth from heaven slowly. She sighed against him and he sighed, too. There wasn’t anything else to say in that moment. 

Apparently, Rose disagreed because after a few minutes, just when he was starting to think he should get a flannel to clean them both up, Rose raised up on her elbow, her eyebrow cocked. 

“See what happens when I get my way?”

“Oi!” he feigned protest. “I got my way! Blew your mind, I did, and don’t deny it.”

“You never even got the nightie off of me before you fucked me senseless,” Rose smirked. “I’d say I won.”

“I had no idea this was a competition,” he grinned, stroking his fingertips down her shoulder. “And if it was, I’d say we both won.”

“Oh, alright,” she said, pretending reluctance. “If you insist. But I demand a rematch at some point.”

Ian laughed. “Oh, I’m counting on that, sweetheart.”


	94. Chapter 94

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twenty thousand hits. Holy shit. 
> 
> We love you all.

29 June 2012

Rose was amused but not surprised when Jackie met her and Donna at the front doors to the mansion dressed to the nines with a bright smile and warm handshake. Upon entering the foyer it became clear that her mother had pulled out all the stops in an effort to make a good impression on the event planner. There were more floral arrangements sitting around than usual, everything was spic and span, and the maids were surrying around busily. Jackie was so distracted by the urge to wow Donna, in fact, that she didn’t grab for Eleanor right away, making Rose smirk. 

Donna was very complimentary about the mansion, and she and Jackie became fast friends. Rose was relegated to following along in their wake, offering opinions where she was asked for one, more often just nodding and smiling. It suited her fine, however, and she didn’t mind. She recognized that she was the bride and it was her day, but this was in large part her _mother’s_ day, too. Rose was Jackie’s only child, and she would only get married once. She wanted her mother to enjoy every aspect. Now if she could just keep her mother and fiancé from butting heads at every turn…

They stood in the larger of the two ballrooms, the one that would likely be used for dancing, and Donna made notes in her portfolio while Jackie chattered about the room’s decor. Rose bounced the baby and wandered the room uselessly, looking at the paintings that adorned the wood walls. Pete had apparently bought the house fully furnished, so she assumed the people in the paintings were relatives of the previous owners. She wondered about their lives, wondered if they’d been royal or something, before this universe’s Great Britain had abolished the monarchy. Heaven knows they sure looked like it. 

“It will likely be too cold to fully utilize the gardens,” Donna was saying while Jackie listened with rapt attention, “but the terraces could be put to good use.”

“Ian and I met on that terrace right there,” Rose offered, pointing out the window. “I was… not having the best time, and he came out there to check on me. He didn’t know me at all, we’d never met, he was just being a nice person. We chatted for a bit, just the two of us, then he asked me to dance. I turned him down. Weather permitting, I’d like our first dance as a married couple to be out there - just the two of us, like that first night.”

“Oh, that sounds lovely,” Jackie said, her hands clasped in front of her chest. “I had no idea your first meeting was so romantic.”

Rose chuckled. “It didn’t seem so at the time, Mum. I just thought he was a nice bloke.”

“Dancing on the terrace as well as in the ballroom can easily be arranged,” Donna said, making more notes. “If that’s what you want, weather need not be a deterrent. We could cover and heat the terrace, even in a blizzard. Whatever you want, Rose, the sky's the limit.”

“Have you decided on colors, dear?”

“I think so,” Rose said, knowing she was about to make her mother terribly happy. “I’m leaning towards the blush and burgundy.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Jackie said, clapping her hands twice. “The pink suits you.”

“I won’t be wearing pink, Mum,” Rose said with a bit of a smirk. “I’ll be the one in white.”

“Of course I know that, dear,” Jackie clucked. “But you’ll be surrounded by those colors, and they bring out your skin tone beautifully.”

“I think you’ll be happy with that palette, Rose,” Donna smiled. 

Rose returned the smile. “I think I’ll be happy with just about anything. I’ll be marrying Ian - that’s all I’m really interested in.”

“Blimey, you’re really going through with that?” came a voice from the entrance to the ballroom, and Rose looked up to see Mickey standing there, smirking. “Thought you had better sense, Rose.”

“You know I don’t.”

“Ah, well. A bloke can dream.” 

She snorted and took a couple of steps towards her friend. He started towards her as well. “What are you doing here? I figured you’d be at work.”

“I’m meeting your dad here, but I’m a bit early. I thought I heard voices, so I figured I’d say hi to your mum.” He waved at Jackie, who waved back distractedly from where she stood talking to Donna. “Here,” he said, when he reached Rose. “Let me see Eleanor. I haven’t seen her in a week or more.”

“And whose fault is that?” Rose grinned, her tongue between her teeth as she handed over the baby. 

“Mine, just like everything else. Learn that early, little bit,” he said to the baby. “Everything is the bloke’s fault. Especially when that bloke is your uncle Mickey.”

Rose snorted, then tugged on Mickey’s arm a little, pulling him over to the other two women in the room. “C’mere, Micks, and meet Donna Noble. She’s our wedding planner. Donna, this is Mickey Smith. He’s been my best mate since I was in nappies.”

“Pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise. I’d shake your hand, but I’m afraid I’d drop Eleanor.”

“Of course, I understand,” Donna said kindly, then turned to Jackie. “Mrs. Tyler, if it’s not too much trouble, I need to see your kitchens.”

“No trouble at all! They’re right through here…” She and Donna started towards the kitchen, but she turned back to Rose. “Are you coming?”

“Be there in a minute, Mum. I’m going to chat with Mickey for a bit.”

“Oh, alright. Don’t be long, though, in case we need you.”

Rose scoffed. “Haven’t needed me so far,” she muttered.

“What was that?”

“I’ll be there in a minute, Mum,” she said in a louder voice, and the two older women turned to leave. 

“Getting pushed around, are you?” Mickey teased as soon as they were gone.

“No, not exactly. It’s just… Mum is in her element and I’m not, so I’m sort of just letting her have her lead. But I have veto power and am making the big decisions.”

“ _Right_.”

Rose swatted his arm. “Hush, you. I wanted to talk to you about the wedding, actually.”

“What about it?”

“I want you to stand with me.”

“Pardon?”

“I want you to stand with me when I marry Ian. Instead of having a maid of honor, I want _you_ to be there with me.”

Mickey looked more than a bit shocked. “Rose…”

“I know you and Ian aren’t best mates,” she rushed ahead, hoping to head him off, “by anyone’s reckoning. But I like to think that you’d be able to put aside whatever differences you have and do this for me.” 

“It’s not that…”

“What is it, then?”

He looked almost caught out, like he was trying to figure out the best way to say something unpleasant, then apparently decided to just go for it. “Rose, are you _sure_ this is what you want?”

“Of course it is! You’re my best mate, Mickey. You know me better than anyone, save Ian.”

“That’s not what I meant. I meant, are you _sure_ you want to marry Ian?”

Rose sighed deeply. She should have known she’d get this from Mickey. She should have seen it coming. “I thought you were past all that?”

“I am, Rose. This has nothing to do with any past differences with your bloke. You’re happy and I’m happy for you, truly. I just mean…” He had that look on his face again, like he was trying to find his words, and Rose waited him out. “It’s just… Rose…” He sighed. “If the TARDIS were to land in the back garden tomorrow…”

“I’d still marry Ian.”

“You what?”

“I’d still marry Ian. I would, Micks.”

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“But you loved the Doctor.”

“I did. I do. I always will. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t be here and I wouldn’t have Eleanor. But I love Ian, too.” She debated trying to explain to Mickey about Bad Wolf bringing her here, but decided to keep things simple. Bad Wolf may have put her here, but it was her choice to stay. “This is where I’m meant to be, Mickey. This is where I’m happy. With Ian.”

“Are you _absolutely sure_ , Rose?”

“I am. One hundred percent.”

“Alright. If you’re sure, then I’ll stand with you in your wedding.” Rose squealed and clapped her hands excitedly, making Mickey grin, and he interrupted her. “On one condition!”

“Name it.”

“You have to stand with me when I marry Martha.”

Rose gaped at him, shocked. “You’re going to marry Martha?”

Mickey’s cheeks darkened a little. “I haven’t asked her yet, but yeah. I’m sure. She’s the one for me, I just know it. And if you’re that sure about Ian, then I can’t do anything else but stand beside you, yeah?”

She wanted to throw her arms around her best mate, but had to content herself with bouncing on the balls of her feet excitedly, since he was holding Eleanor. “Thank you, Micks. I’ll be honored to be your best man when you marry Martha.”

“That is, if Martha doesn’t snatch you away. Say,” he said, a look of comprehension dawning on his face. “What will that make me? Maid of honor?”

“ _Man_ of honor, I suppose,” Rose giggled. “We’ll have to ask Donna.”

“Does that mean I have to plan your hen night?”

Rose snorted. “No, I suspect you’ll be stuck going on Ian’s stag night, making sure he behaves.”

“Bloody hell. I’m rethinking the whole thing now,” he teased, making Rose giggle. 

“Look at us, Mickey. If only the gang back on the estates could see us now, marrying doctors.”

“They’d never believe it. Everyone thought we’d end up married to each other.”

“Well, I think we ended up with the people we were meant to be with, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I do.”

“C’mon,” Rose urged him. “Let’s go find Mum and Donna and find out just what being a man of honor is going to entail.”

~*~O~*~

8 July 2012

Ian and Rose had mutually decided when she was still pregnant with Eleanor to have a date night at least once a month once the baby came - preferably every couple of weeks. Once Eleanor had arrived, however, neither of them had been particularly keen to enforce it. They’d been happy in their little bubble and Rose had privately figured they would just get around to going out eventually. She hadn’t been bothered. 

This plan, apparently, was not good enough for Bill and Clara, who had been good-naturedly pestering both of them to let them watch the baby. They’d resisted the women’s attempts for a little while, but Ian had surprised Rose the week before saying that he’d gotten theatre tickets for them to celebrate being together for three months. She hadn’t protested the idea. A date with Ian had sounded heavenly. 

The whole evening had been terribly romantic. With Ian’s encouragement, Rose had bought a new dress in a sultry, dark red. It was form-fitting and did wonders for her cleavage, and she felt sure it would draw his eye. She’d carefully styled her hair and applied her makeup, wanting to look her best for him, and had been gratified when not only did Ian’s jaw drop when she came down the stairs, Clara and Bill’s had, as well. Ian had been speechless until Bill wolf-whistled at her, making Rose blush, then he’d turned around and scowled at the other two women. He’d barely given Rose time to kiss Eleanor goodbye before he was tugging her out of the door to the SUV, saying he was anxious to have her all to himself.

Ian had pulled out all the stops for dinner, taking her to the same restaurant they’d gone to when they’d planned to see the Mousetrap in January but he’d been called to work. This time, however, he ordered expensive champagne for them and they toasted each other. If Rose hadn’t known better, she’d have thought he was wooing her, but she wasn’t complaining one bit. She rather loved his attentions and basked in them. 

Now they were sitting in a private box at the Old Vic watching a performance of Much Ado About Nothing. It was Rose’s favorite Shakespearean play, and she’d seen it twice with the Doctor at different points in time. This particular adaptation was set in the 1980’s, but the change of era didn’t diminish Rose’s enjoyment one bit.

Rose had wondered before whether any woman had ever been as attracted to their bloke as she was to hers, but looking over at Ian now, with the lights from the stage playing across his face, she knew that was impossible. No one had _ever_ loved their bloke the way she loved Ian Docherty. The play was still fascinating and she was enjoying it, but the temptation of Ian sitting beside her in the dark in a private booth was too much to ignore. She wriggled her hand free of his and put it on his leg, stroking lightly. 

Ian cut his eyes at her, pursing his lips and giving her a mock-warning look, and Rose responded by putting her tongue in the corner of her mouth coyly. His attention went back to the play and she’d continued running her hand up and down his leg, eventually working her way up to where he was hard for her. She let her fingertips play over the large tent in his trousers, leaning over to place kisses on his neck every so often and whisper suggestive ideas to him. 

“Minx,” he muttered just loud enough for her to hear. “Behave yourself.”

“I don’t want to.”

She saw his jaw clench and had to fight back a victorious little giggle. His eyes twinkled at her and she weighed the merits of getting to her knees in the little box. 

Before she could think on it too much, the crowd erupted into applause and the lights came up for intermission. She sighed internally, a little annoyed at having been interrupted, but it was probably for the best. She needed the loo anyway. 

She turned her head and opened her mouth to tell Ian she was excusing herself when he cupped the back of her head and gave her a scorching, breath-stealing kiss. It was a good thing she hadn’t been standing when he did that, or she might have collapsed. When he released her lips, she blinked blearily at him, a smile growing. 

“A little worked up there, Ian?”

“You’re terrible. Do you know that?”

“No,” she teased. “I’m very, very good.”

“Terrible. Fucking terrible.”

“Wait until after intermission and I’ll show you just how good I am. The lights will go down and so will I.”

“I swear to God, Rose Tyler, if you make me shout an orgasm in the middle of a crowded theatre…”

She giggled. “Is that an option?”

Ian groaned. “I had planned on taking you for fucking drinks and dancing after the play, but I can see I’m going to have to take you straight home so I can shag you rotten.”

“Would it help if I alleviated the pressure?” she asked innocently, caressing his hard shaft. “I’d love nothing more than to suck you off during the second act...”

He didn’t get to answer before there was a knock and Rose was forced to snatch her hand away. The door behind them opened, revealing an usher. “Oh, I’m sorry, I thought this box was empty,” he apologized. Ian told him it was quite alright and he went on his way.

Rose leaned over and pressed a light kiss to Ian’s lips, then got to her feet. 

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“To the ladies’,” she told him, smiling seductively, then bent over and kissed him again. “Have to powder my nose, you know.”

“Minx. You’re a bloody minx.”

She giggled. “Quit complaining, you love it.”

“I do.”

“I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere,” she told him, then waved over her shoulder at the doorway before she stepped into the corridor. 

The ladies’ was posh, but Rose was getting used to that. She used the loo then went to the small powder room just off to the side to touch up her makeup. With a grin, she pulled out her lipstick, reapplying it, mentally picturing Ian watching her while she sucked him off and liking the idea of her red lips contrasting against the light skin of his cock. Just thinking about doing that for him made her knickers a little damp. 

Another woman came into the powder room and Rose glanced up curiously, smiling when she saw who it was. “Michelle?”

Michelle Stockman looked up when she heard her name and stared at Rose, wide-eyed. Rose assumed she didn’t recognize her, so she clarified. “It’s me, Rose Tyler. We’ve met at my parents’ house.”

“I know who you are. I’m just surprised to see you.”

“How are you? I haven’t seen you or John at Mum and Dad’s recently…”

“You would know all about why, wouldn’t you?”

Rose recoiled a little from the icy tone. “I’m afraid I don’t.”

“Don’t you? Since it was your _trophy husband_ who caused it.”

She was more confused than ever. “I don’t understand.”

“That’s not surprising,” Michelle snarked. “I suspect there’s a great deal you don’t understand, although you are wily in your own way, aren’t you?”

“I’m sorry?”

Michelle scoffed. “Do you honestly think that anyone believes that baby is Ian’s? We all know she’s not. The maths are all off. No, everyone knows the truth: you were gallivanting around the world with Daddy’s money and no responsibilities, then came back home when you found out you were up the duff. You’ve got that chavvy air about you, I doubt you even know who the father really is, do you?”

Rose gasped, her hand covering her mouth. What on earth had she done to deserve this? “Why are you saying this?”

“One should always speak the truth. That baby can’t possibly be Ian’s child.”

She trembled with anger and hurt, tears welling in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. With her hands clenched beside her hips, she answered, “My daughter is Ian’s. There’s no question about it.”

Michelle laughed, a cold, cruel sound. “Ha! ‘No question’ - the only way for you to know that would be if you had a DNA test, and you wouldn’t have done _that_ if there hadn’t been a question. Pete is powerful enough he could have falsified the report to spare his baby girl’s feelings and keep Ian on the line, if that’s what you wanted. Poor Ian.”

“ _‘Poor Ian’_?”

“You know, at least Jenn was honest about being a social climber when she got her hooks in him. You’re just a chavvy, common little girl with daddy issues. But here you are, happily engaged to the great Ian Docherty. Scads of women tried to reel him in, of course. My word, all the women I’ve seen come and go in the last twenty years! Ian got around, you know. And every single one had more class in their pinky finger than you could ever buy with daddy’s money, but you were cleverer than all of them, weren’t you? You got a baby involved. He actually believes that baby is his daughter, doesn’t he?”

“She _is_ his daughter!”

“Of course she is, dear,” Michelle simpered. “You go right ahead and tell yourself that. Tell the whole world that. But it’s all a pack of lies, and eventually Ian is going to see you for what you are - a tramp who found herself in a bad situation and latched onto the first ‘safe’ man she could find.”

“That’s a lie,” Rose snarled, her voice quaking. “That’s not what happened. I love him more than anything, and he loves me.”

“Well, he does _now_ ,” she agreed, smirking. “What’s not to love? You’re young and passing pretty and you came with a ready-made family and billions of pounds. But sooner or later, your true colors are going to show. You can hardly help but dress like a slag, can you?” Rose looked down at her snug-fitting dress and wanted to hide. “Ian is many things, but he’s not stupid. He could have any woman he wanted. I mean, he doesn’t even _like_ the theatre. Do you honestly think that leopard will change his spots for you? He’s just trying to keep his young arm candy happy.”

Rose’s mind was reeling, but she tried to focus on what to say and do in the moment. It wasn’t easy, and she didn’t get a chance to say anything else before Michelle patted her on the shoulder disingenuously. 

“Don’t worry, dear. I’m sure it won’t take him long to realize what he’s done, and then he’ll chuck you aside in favor of someone more his type, someone less… _common_. And you can be on your way.”

“Leave me alone,” Rose gritted out, tears finally falling. “Stay away from me, stay away from my family. You are a horrid woman and I’m sorry I ever knew you at all.”

Michelle just smirked at her and turned to leave. Rose was just about to relax a little when the vile woman turned around and smiled at her again. “Oh, but I do wish you congratulations on the baby, truly. No idea who her true father is, of course, but he must have been quite handsome. Cheer up! You’ll find someone else to victimize soon.”

With that, Michelle turned on her heel and left the powder room, leaving Rose to wait until she heard the door close before she let go with a sob.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second half of this chapter hearkens back to events in chapter 32, in case you want to refresh.


	95. Chapter 95

8 July, 2012 (cont.)

Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. 

Rose hadn’t come back to the box until a couple of minutes after intermission ended and the play had started again. He’d asked her if she was alright and she’d smiled, assuring him that she was, then folded her hands in her lap and watched the play silently. There had been no more playing with him, and although she’d driven him so barmy in the first half of the play he’d considered running off to the gents’ to wank during intermission, the absence of her flirting had left him more than a little confused. She’d even resisted a little when he’d reached over to take her hand, and then when she acquiesced, her hand was limp in his. It was completely unlike her and scared him to death. 

When the play ended and they stood to leave, he asked her again if she was alright. She insisted she was with a smile that didn’t meet her eyes. He didn’t believe her, but in the middle of a crowded theatre was no place to push her about it. She didn’t resist this time when he took her hand, and she seemed almost herself when they were stopped in the lobby by an old friend, Roger Velmar. Rose chatted politely with his wife and Ian was encouraged… maybe she’d just had a bad moment or something. Maybe it had all been in his head. 

But when they got to the SUV and started on the way home, Rose had lapsed back into silence. Her hands were once again folded in her lap, twisting her ring, and she stared out of the window at the passing scenery. Ian was at a loss. His sweetheart was always so bubbly, so full of life. Seeing her this way was almost physically painful, and he had no idea what to do. 

“I forgot to tell you,” he said cheerfully, deciding to pretend that nothing was wrong for the moment and see if he could pull her out. “I was contacted today by the Welsh Association of OB/GYNs. They asked me to come to fucking Cardiff and give the keynote speech for their symposium this year. It’s in September. Will that interfere with wedding planning?”

She shook her head. “No.”

Ian waited a moment for her to say more, but she didn’t. So he went on. “It’s going to be a couple of days, although I don’t know whether or not they’ll want me there the entire time. Would you like to go with me? We can see the sights --”

“I’ve been to Cardiff.”

He wasn’t sure he’d ever been so confused in his life. They’d been having a perfectly lovely evening, honestly quite likely the best date Ian had ever been on. He’d been very proud of spoiling her rotten, and she’d seemed receptive to it. He’d looked forward to dancing with her, holding her close, then taking her home and snuggling on the couch before bed. What had happened?

“Sweetheart…”

“I’m fine, Ian,” she snapped, telling him that she absolutely was no such thing. 

“What happened?”

Rose just shook her head. 

“There’s nothing I can do to fix it if you won’t tell me, sweetheart. You were fine. Now you’re not. Something happened.”

She sniffled lightly. “I just want to get home to Eleanor.”

Ian was growing more agitated as time went on. There was something she wasn’t telling him and he wanted to know, right away. Why wouldn’t she tell him?

He pulled into the driveway, parked in the garage, and Rose let herself out of the car instead of waiting for him to come around as he always did. By the time he realized she was gone, she was already letting herself into the house, leaving him to stand beside the SUV, confused and upset. 

She seemed subdued but almost normal again when they greeted Clara and Bill, like she was tired. That was somehow more disturbing than her silence. She fed the baby while Ian talked to Clara and Bill about how the evening had gone, then excused herself shortly after she handed the baby over to Ian. She didn’t kiss him or tell him she loved him, she just thanked Clara and Bill one more time, said she was fighting a headache, and turned to go upstairs to bed. 

“Blimey,” Bill marveled when she was out of earshot. “What did you do, Doctor?”

“I didn’t do anything! Everything was fine until intermission. She’s been a fucking robot ever since.”

“She looks like she’s seen a ghost,” Clara commented, and Ian was suddenly reminded of the day Rose saw Mrs. Baker at the community center and how upset she’d been after the encounter. Was that what had happened? Had Rose seen someone from her past?

Ian sighed and changed the subject, anxious to get upstairs to Rose. “I appreciate you lot keeping Eleanor tonight. Rose does, too. It was a wonderful evening until… whatever the fuck happened happened.”

“You go tend to Rose,” Bill said, getting to her feet with Clara beside her. “We’ll see ourselves out.”

“Thank you.”

He waited until the door closed behind them, a heavy-lidded Eleanor laying on his chest, and he sang the gaelic lullaby. Honestly, he wasn’t sure who he was trying to soothe - himself or the baby. 

Within a few minutes, she’d fallen asleep. Ian usually continued to rock her for a while after she succumbed, but not tonight. He toed off his shoes into the floor in front of his chair, got to his feet, and went upstairs to put the baby to bed so he could check on Rose. 

Their room was dark when he arrived, the only light coming from the lamp on his side of the bed that Rose had left on so he wouldn’t trip over anything. He stared at Rose’s form in the bed, huddled under the covers although it was mid-summer, and was intensely silent, trying to hear. She snuffled a little, clearly trying not to draw attention to herself, and he felt himself deflate. He’d hoped that she’d want to talk once he got up here, but apparently not. 

Feeling dejected, he took off his suit and laid it over one of the brocade chairs by the large windows, pulling on pajama trousers to sleep in with his vest. Rose’s crying seemed to intensify, and that was all he could take. She may not be willing to talk to him, but he couldn’t stand to see her suffer this way. The least he could do was comfort her. 

He got into bed and scooted over to her, pulling her into his arms. She stiffened at once, but he didn’t let go. He spooned behind her tense form, his arms around her, and pressed kisses to the back of her hair and her shoulder. Rose cried harder. 

“Sweetheart, what is it? What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Please don’t shut me out, Rose. I can’t stand to see you like this. I’d rather you beat me with a fucking cricket bat than see you like this.” She responded with more tears and he just held her, close as a heartbeat, feeling as if his own heart would shatter. “Did you see someone from your old universe? An old friend?”

“Don’t worry about it. Just go to sleep.”

“No way in hell can I sleep with you like this, sweetheart. You do know that I love you, right?”

Something about that made her sob, and he sighed. She cried in his arms until she quieted a little, reduced to just sniffles in the dark. He waited her out. Finally, she spoke, although her voice was timid. 

“If I ask you something, will you tell me the truth?”

“Of course, sweetheart. Anything.”

“I know I joke and tease about you being a lothario, but I need to know if it’s true. If I’m going to be running into women all the time who are clever and beautiful and are just _brilliant_... who also slept with my bloke. Women like Joan.”

She couldn’t have shocked him anymore if she’d thrown him into a vat of cold water. His whole body tensed and he managed to get out, “Joan?”

“Yes. Joan Redfern. I know you had a relationship with her, it was painfully obvious. How many more Joans are there?”

“Sweetheart, it wasn’t like that…”

“You don’t have to protect me, Ian, I’m all grown up. You were single for twenty years. Surely you dated. I don’t begrudge you that. I just want to know how much I’m going to have to deal with it. How many women are going to be looking at me sideways?”

He was torn between squirming and outright anger. Squirming was winning at the moment, though. “I dated, yes. Some of those women live in London. I rarely see them, I’m sure you won’t have to either. What is this about?”

“I want to ask you something else.”

“Anything,” he said, hoping they were getting somewhere. 

“What happened to the Stockmans? They always came to Mum and Dad’s house for parties and dinner, then they just suddenly stopped. What happened?”

“I told you, he and I had words.”

“About?”

Sweetheart --”

“About what, Ian?”

Ian dragged one hand down his face, feeling more agitated by the minute. “He was rude about you.”

“What did he say?”

“Rose --”

“What did he _say_ , Ian?”

“I don’t remember, exactly. It was offensive and infuriated me.”

“What did you do?”

“I threatened to tell his wife that I knew he’d been having affairs if he ever came anywhere near you again.”

“He implied that I was a slag, didn’t he?”

“Rose --”

“That’s as good as a yes. Well, it runs in the family, then, because his wife did the same thing tonight. Only she didn’t imply I was a slag, she said so right out.”

Ian was struck dumb as Rose’s words rang through his ears. She had started to sob again, curled around her hands, but Ian couldn’t comfort her just yet. He was too stunned. 

“She did what?”

Rose cried a minute more, then sniffed loudly and said, “I saw Michelle Stockman tonight in the powder room. She told me that everyone knew Eleanor wasn’t yours and called me a slag. She said that I had you under my spell and that you’d wake up soon enough and be shot of me. She implied that better, more worthy women had failed to catch you and I had tricked you into believing Eleanor was yours.”

She broke down again, sobbing loudly, and Ian just stared into the dark. He wanted to find the Stockmans and bollock the shit out of Michelle before he beat the shit out of John. Fury like he hadn’t known in years roiled within him and he desperately - _desperately_ \- wanted to lash out. But Rose was his priority, so he swallowed his anger and rolled her over to face him. She buried her face in his chest right away and continued to cry.

“Sweetheart, nobody thinks you’re a slag.”

“The Stockmans do.”

“The Stockmans are fucking rubbish. They barely count as fucking human.”

“The maths though, Ian…”

“It’s tight, yes. But that doesn’t make you a slag. You’re nothing of the sort.”

“I just keep thinking of all the times we’ve been around your friends… what must they think of me?”

“Sweetheart, my family and every single one of my friends think you’re the best thing that ever happened to me. Anyone who knows me at all knows that I’m desperately in love with you.”

“What happens if you realize you’re not? That you were just infatuated?”

“Never going to happen, Rose.”

“I trapped you,” she wailed. “You were perfectly happy with Joan and I trapped you.”

“What does Joan have to do with fucking anything?”

“She acted like a woman betrayed when we arrived at the hospital.”

“Any relationship I had with Joan - and I use that word very loosely - ended the moment I laid eyes on you, Rose. The absolute _moment_ you stepped out into that aisle. I hadn’t seen her in more than a month before that, and I never saw her again.”

“But she’s more your type. She’s what you deserve. Someone professional, brilliant.”

“ _You’re_ brilliant.”

“According to Michelle Stockman, I’m a chavvy little girl with daddy issues. And she’s right,” she cried, and Ian bubbled over. 

“Enough. E-fucking-nough. You are nothing of the sort and I won’t allow you to speak of yourself that way.”

“But --”

He kissed her then, desperate to shut her up, to reassure her, to stop the horrible thoughts that seemed to be rattling around in her mind. She was tense against him and pulled away quickly. “Ian --”

This time, he cupped the back of her head and kissed her, holding her to him. It was only a minute before she relaxed into his kiss and he pulled her even closer, breaching her lips, letting his tongue explore her mouth while his hands caressed her lovingly. He pulled out every stop in his attempt to woo her and soothe her, slowing down only when she whimpered and sagged against him. 

Finally, he pulled back. “Does that feel like the kiss of a man who is only infatuated?”

“I’ve never been kissed like that before in my life,” she admitted.

“And I’ve never kissed anyone like that. I’ve never loved like this before, Rose. Never in my life,” he replied. “Forty-six years. Yes, there have been other women before you, and I’ve even loved a couple of them. But nothing - _nothing_ \- like how I love you.”

“Ian…”

“Rose, sweetheart, you know me better than to think I’d ever leave you. There’s no telling what would happen to me if you left me. I may die - God knows I wouldn't want to go on living without you. Do you honestly believe I could walk away?”

She was crying again and he wiped her cheeks dry. “Well? Do you?”

“No.”

He kissed her forehead. “Good, because I never could. I love you, Rose. I love every little thing about you. And I’m going to marry you soon. About four and a half months.”

“Are you sure?” she asked in a timid voice that was totally unlike her.

“I’ve never been so sure about anything. I know, Rose. I _know_.”

“I know, too.”

“I couldn’t give less of a fuck what anyone else thinks, really, but Michelle lied to you. People assumed Eleanor was mine from the get-go and have fully accepted that she is. No one thinks twice about it. They just don’t. It’s a non-issue, just something she said to hurt you because her husband was a fucking prat. Everyone loves you, Rose. You make friends everywhere you go. I’ve never seen the like.”

She settled a bit, sniffling every now and then, and he just stroked her back and murmured soothing nonsense. Her hormones were still out of whack, he knew, and then for her to have been fucking attacked like that… He couldn’t think about that right now. The Stockmans could be dealt with later. 

“I love you, Ian.”

“Are you sure?” he teased gently, ducking his head to look into her red-rimmed and mascara-smeared eyes. 

“I’m absolutely positive,” she told him. “I love you more than anything on this world - or any other.”

He kissed her gently. “I love you, too. Do you trust that I’m not going to change my mind and leave you?”

“I do. And I’m not leaving you.”

“I’ve never gotten better news in my life.”

The two of them laid there, reassuring each other in quiet voices and soothing each other with gentle caresses, until Rose fell asleep in Ian’s arms. He continued to stroke her back gently, hoping to ward off any bad dreams that may plague her, and plotted his revenge until he fell asleep as well.

~*~O~*~

10 July, 2012

The confrontation with Michelle Stockman came up twice over the next two days, and Ian eventually sussed out the entire conversation - every nasty detail. He was still livid, in some realm well beyond angry, but made a conscious effort not to reveal just _how_ angry he was to Rose, or that he was bent on revenge. Rose, he knew, would try to talk him out of retaliating... it wasn’t in her nature to cause harm for any reason. She’d tell him to ignore it and not to stoop to their level. 

Ian was having none of that. Not this time. The love of his life had been viciously, verbally attacked, her character and reputation maligned, and he would not - _could not_ \- stand for that. No way in hell. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he seethed. 

Her mood seemed to be improved Tuesday night when they loaded the baby into the SUV and headed for the mansion. Rose deftly avoided the topic of their most recent trip to the theatre during dinner, distracting her mother with wedding details, instead. Ian saw the deflections for what they were, but wasn’t sure that anyone else did. 

After dinner, as they always did on Tuesday nights, Ian and Pete left the ladies to their own devices with kisses and joking promises to behave, then retired to the billiards room. Pete seemed to be in a boisterous mood and Ian almost hated what he was about to do. Almost. 

Pete looked up at Ian with a raised eyebrow when Ian threw back his first scotch and held his glass out for more. “Everything alright, there?”

“No,” Ian answered flatly. 

“Something’s wrong with Rose, isn’t it?” Pete guessed. “She’s seemed off all night.”

“Yeah. She ran into Michelle Stockman at the theatre night before last, during intermission.”

“And?”

Ian ground his teeth against what he had to say. “Michelle dragged her through the mud, standing right in the middle of the fucking powder room. Blamed Rose for them being blackballed and called me Rose’s ‘trophy husband’. Called _her_ a slag, told her that ‘everyone’ knew Eleanor wasn’t mine, the works. Rose just stood there and took it.”

“Is she alright?” Pete demanded, looking every inch the concerned father. 

“She is now,” Ian answered. “As you can imagine, the last two days have been rough and Sunday night especially was… not our best night.”

“I imagine. What did Michelle say, exactly?”

“She told Rose that I’d dated scads of women, and all of them were higher class than Rose. Called her a chav. Said that Rose must have tricked me in order to get me to marry her and that she was lying about Eleanor’s parentage.”

“That bitch,” Pete growled, his hand clenching around his glass. 

“It all started because Rose was fucking polite and asked where she’d been.”

“I blackballed them after you had a run-in with Stockman at Jackie’s birthday party.”

“Blackballing isn’t enough. I want to fucking destroy him. Both of them. They called my daughter a bastard and planted seeds in Rose’s mind that I’m not sure I’ll ever get out completely.”

“Like what?”

“Rose already struggles against feeling like she doesn’t belong in society. Deep down, she still feels like a nobody from the estates. Her own inner voice telling her she’s an imposter is bad enough. She didn’t need this shit. And then for that dumb cunt to plant the idea with Rose that I’m going to wise up and leave the love of my life?” Ian exhaled in disgust. 

“What do you want to do?”

“What I threatened to do in February - I’m going to expose the fact that he’s been fucking running around on Michelle.”

“What _happened_ in February? What brought all this on?”

He took a large swallow of scotch. He’d told Rose he didn’t remember the details, but his memory of that night so many months ago was perfectly clear. “He congratulated me for ‘getting in there’ with Rose, but told me I shouldn’t stick around. Called Eleanor ‘some other man’s mess’.” Ian clenched his fist now, just thinking back on that moment. “Then he praised some of Rose’s… physical virtues.”

“Don’t,” Pete stopped him with a hand up. “I don’t want to discuss my daughter’s ‘physical virtues’.”

“I didn’t either,” Ian told him. “So I threatened him: if he spoke to or about Rose again in a way I didn’t like, I was going to destroy him.”

“Destroy who?” came Jackie’s voice from the doorway, and Ian wanted to throw something in frustration. He’d really hoped to keep this away from Rose. 

“It’s nothing, darling,” Pete said smoothly. 

Jackie held up a pink-painted finger. “Don’t lie to me, Peter Tyler. Don’t you dare. I came in here because something has upset Rose, I can tell, and I was prepared to string Ian up by the bollocks for hurting her. But apparently that’s not what happened. Who hurt her?”

Pete sighed. “John and Michelle Stockman. Michelle cornered Rose on Sunday night and said some pretty nasty things.”

“Like what?” Jackie demanded.

“She called Rose a slag and a liar. Told her that I was going to leave her for a classier woman,” Ian said. 

“Oooh, that _cow_. I never did like her.”

Pete chuckled at that. “You haven’t liked any of my friends’ wives.”

“That’s not true, I like a couple of them. But that’s beside the point. How are you going to destroy them?”

Ian and Pete shot a look at each other quickly, then Pete answered. “Ian threatened to expose John’s infidelities.”

Jackie raised an eyebrow and one corner of her mouth. “Oh, so he’s being unfaithful, too?”

“ _Too_?”

The blonde woman looked smug. “Michelle has been shagging her tennis instructor for years. She offered me his business card, in case I wanted to take ‘lessons’ of my own.”

“You’re shitting me,” Ian gaped. 

Jackie shook her head. “Nope,” she said, popping the p, clearly relishing this moment. “Told her I was happy with my bloke, I was. If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have married him twice. Pete’s more than… satisfactory.”

Ian groaned, covering his eyes. He didn’t want to hear about this. When he dragged his hand down his face, he spotted Jackie smirking, winking at her red-faced husband.

“Well?” he asked, anxious to change the subject. “What the fuck do we do with that information?”

“ _You_ don’t do anything,” Pete said firmly.

“But --”

“Pete’s right. You need to stay focused on your family.”

“I _am_ focusing on my family!”

Pete clapped Ian on the shoulder. “Let us handle this. You take care of Rose and Eleanor.”

“That’s what I’m fucking trying to do,” Ian complained. 

“Let me chew on it a bit, Ian. If I need you, I’ll ask for help. And I’ll keep you updated.” 

He growled, frustrated, then jumped when he heard Rose behind him. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, sweetheart,” he said, sweeping over to her and kissing her lightly. 

“Seems like you lot are having a party without me,” Rose said with an eyebrow raised. 

“No, no party.”

“I just came in here to check with Pete about something,” Jackie lied smoothly. “I was on my way back to the lounge with you. Where’s Eleanor?”

“Asleep in her carrier.” 

“Go relax,” Ian encouraged her with a kiss to the forehead. “We’ll head home soon.”

“Alright…” she said, looking around the room one more time. “You lot are acting super shady, though. I just want you to know that I noticed.”

“Oh, hush and come back in the lounge. I interrupted these two in the middle of some big important conversation,” Jackie said, grabbing Rose’s arm and leading her towards the door. 

“I won’t be long, sweetheart,” Ian called out. 

She gave him one more disbelieving look, then followed her mum out of the room. Once he was sure they were out of earshot, he turned to Pete.

“I want to be a part of this.”

“No. You stay out of it.”

“She’s my wife!”

“Not yet. And you know perfectly well that Rose wouldn’t want you to take revenge. She’s not like that. If she’s going to be angry at someone for this, let her be angry at me.”

Ian didn’t like this idea at all, he was thirsty for blood and very much wanted to be in the thick of it. But Pete was in a better position to ruin Stockman, and he knew it. 

“You’ll keep me in the loop?”

“Yes.”

“And you’ll let me know if and when I can help?”

“Yes. But that won’t be necessary. I have an idea.”

Ian gave a curt nod. He’d have to be satisfied with that.


	96. Chapter 96

18 July, 2012

~Rose: _Hi!_  
~Osgood: _Hi yourself!_  
~Rose: _when is your next day off?_  
~Osgood: _tomorrow, actually. Why?_  
~Rose: _do you have plans? I could use your help_  
~Osgood: _what do you need?_  
~Rose: _would you be willing to go dress shopping with me? my mother wants to go but she can be a bit overbearing at times_  
~Osgood: _sure!_  
~Rose: _oh, thank you so much! Eleanor and I will pick you up at yours around noon, if that’s okay. we’ll go to lunch (my treat) then go shopping?_  
~Osgood: _sounds good!_  
~Rose: _see you then! THANK YOU!_

~*~O~*~

19 July 2012

Rose and Osgood chatted from either side of Eleanor’s carseat on Friday while Henry guided the sleek black car through London traffic. They’d had a wonderful lunch, Eleanor had been a dream baby, and now they were on their way to meet Jackie at the bridal salon. 

“So I asked Mickey to stand with me at the wedding,” Rose volunteered, feeling a little nervous. “He’s going to be my ‘Man of Honor’.” 

Osgood giggled from the other side of the carseat. “Clever title. He was okay with that?”

“Yeah, he was a good sport. He doesn’t want to do the girly bits of the planning and whatnot, though. So…” She ducked her head shyly. “I recruited you to go gown shopping with me today. I hope that’s alright. I didn’t tell you it was for wedding gowns because I was afraid you’d say no.”

“Blimey. You said ‘dress shopping’. I didn’t think you meant we’d be shopping for something so important. Are you sure you want me?”

“Of course I want you! I couldn’t seriously bring Mickey...”

“Well, he’s your best mate…”

“He is,” she agreed. “I’ve known him since birth. But you’re the only girl friend I have.”

“Look at me, Rose!” Osgood protested lightly, indicating her tan jumper and trousers. “I’m not exactly a beacon of femininity, here.”

“Maybe not by some people’s standards, but you’ve been the girl friend I needed, no matter how you dress. Do you know that you’re the only person - literally the only person in the universe - that I confessed being in love with Ian to? Everyone _suspected_ , of course, but I didn’t trust anyone with the truth. Only you.” Osgood looked as if she was tearing up and Rose reached across Eleanor’s seat to grasp her hand. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. In fact… I haven’t talked to Ian about it - we’d only decided for sure that we’d each have one person - but would you stand with me when I marry him?”

“Oh, Rose…”

She deflated a little bit. “That doesn’t sound good.”

Osgood squeezed Rose’s hand. “I will be happy to do anything and everything you want me to do for this wedding. I’ll write invitations, I’ll hang floral arrangements, I’ll help you shop for anything you want or need. But I’m much more comfortable in the background. I hope that’s alright.”

“Of course,” Rose said, a little disappointed. “You’ll still come, though, right? I really want you to be involved, even if you’re not going to stand. You can even wear your khakis, if you want.”

The brunette woman laughed. “I wouldn’t dare come to your wedding dressed like this.”

“You can wear whatever you like,” Rose said, giving her another squeeze. “Just as long as you’re there. I need my friend.”

“I’ll be there,” Osgood promised with a smile. “I’ll wear a dress and gladly take over the tasks that Mickey deems ‘too girly’, too.”

“Yay!” Rose celebrated, leaning across Eleanor to hug her friend. 

Henry helped them out of the car when they arrived at the bridal salon and Jackie met them on the sidewalk, predictably pulling Eleanor’s carrier away from Rose. 

“It’s about time!” she lectured. 

“We’re right on time, Mum, don’t nag. Say hello to Osgood.”

“Hello, Osgood, dear, so good of you to come. Now hurry! We only have five minutes!”

Rose shot a look at Osgood, who looked amused, and the two women covered their mouths to stifle giggles. 

Jackie had clearly chosen one of the most posh bridal salons in town - if not _the_ most posh salon. They were greeted by a woman named Doris who took them back to their own private consultation rooms where they’d be viewing and trying on gowns. There were several books full of pictures of gowns and a raised platform in front of three mirrors that would allow a full view of the dress being tried on. On the right side of the room, there was a door to a walk-in closet that looked almost like you’d be walking into a cloud - Rose was told that those were veils to try on with the dresses. Doris called around for some champagne and hors d'oeuvres, telling them that their consultant, Maria, would be with them in a minute. In the meantime, she took Rose’s ‘basic’ measurements while Jackie and Osgood started flipping through the books, looking at dresses, then went to get a bra and slip for Rose to wear while she tried on the expensive gowns. 

“Blimey. This is a to-do, isn’t it?” Jackie marveled quietly, seeming proud of herself. “I married your father in a suit from Henriks. Gave fifty quid for it and never wore it again.”

“I think they charge you fifty quid just to breathe the air here, Mum,” Rose muttered, making the three women giggle. 

Doris returned and with her came a tall, slender woman in a tailored, mint-colored suit. Her hair, makeup, and nails were all perfect, and her accessories were also just right. She extended her hand with a smile. 

“Hello Miss Tyler, my name is Maria Rollins, and I’ll be your bridal consultant.” 

Rose said hello, then introduced her mother and Osgood, paying close attention to Maria’s face when she took in Osgood. The older woman didn’t flinch, and that settled Rose’s mind quite a bit. 

“We have hundreds of gowns in stock,” Maria was saying, “and we work with over a dozen designers. I don’t expect you to find a dress and buy it off the rack, not as high-profile as your wedding is, but I’d like you to try on some dresses to get an idea of what suits you best. Have you picked out some styles you’d like to try? What appeals to you most?”

They spent the next little bit flipping through the books to pull out some dresses to try on. Jackie seemed to gravitate towards more ostentatious styles, while Rose’s own choices were a bit more traditional. She also took Maria’s advice into consideration. Osgood was mostly quiet, holding the baby. 

Finally, they had a group of about twelve dresses for Rose to try on. She went into the large dressing area with Maria and Doris and got into the special bra and slip, then put on the first dress, a stylish, fitted dress with a mermaid skirt. 

Maria directed her over to step up onto the raised platform in front of the mirrors, and then fluffed the train of the white gown out, showing it off. Jackie sniffled.

“You alright, Mum?”

Jackie dabbed her eyes with one of the tissues that had been thoughtfully provided by the bridal salon. “I just can’t believe my baby is getting married.”

Rose beamed. “I most certainly am, in four months and five days. I can’t wait!”

Osgood chuckled from her seat on the posh couch. “Counting the days, are we?”

“It’s a rare bride that isn’t,” Maria informed them, going to the veils and picking through them, choosing one to try. “And every mother has the same moment of disbelief when she sees her baby girl dressed as a bride. It’s natural.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Osgood said, good-naturedly as always. “I just remember that it wasn’t so long ago when you were telling me that you and Ian were nothing but friends…”

“We are friends,” Rose protested cheekily. “He’s my best friend in the world.”

Osgood just shook her head and grinned. Rose giggled. 

“What do you think of the dress?” she asked the other two women, smoothing her hands over the lace of the skirt and turning to face them, beaming. 

Jackie dabbed her eyes again. “You look like a princess, sweetheart.”

“She’s right, you do,” Osgood agreed.

“I _feel_ like a little girl playing dress up. And I never dreamed there would be so many choices!”

“The choices aren’t finite, dear,” Maria reminded her. “You can have any dress you can dream up.”

“Oh,” Rose pooh-poohed. “That seems decadent. There are only four months, I wouldn’t want to put anyone into that kind of time crunch. I’m sure I can find something, but I’m not sure about this,” she said, picking at the fitted skirt.

“I think it’s lovely,” Jackie said, getting to her feet and coming over.

“It shows off your curves nicely,” Maria said, finally picking a veil to match and arranging it on the top of Rose’s head. 

Rose poked at the remnants of her baby belly. “Yes,” she remarked dryly, her mind suddenly made up. “It does. Perhaps a bit much, though. What other dresses are there?”

A few minutes later, she was back on the platform in a more traditional-looking gown with long sleeves and a full skirt that had Jackie cooing loudly. “Rose,” she breathed. “That’s absolutely _lovely_.”

It was an improvement, but there were things she wasn’t entirely sold on. The bodice tied up the back and she wasn’t sure she liked that, plus the dress was decked out with rhinestones. No wonder her mother loved it. She did like the way the dress fit her, though, and she liked the front of the dress. It did wonders for her cleavage - and she flushed when she thought of how Ian would appreciate that. But this wasn’t _the_ dress. Rose said so, then went to try on another dress. Then another. Then another and another.

Doris made notes on a clipboard about what Rose did and didn’t like about each dress while Maria talked to Rose about ways they could be modified or made differently, if she didn’t want an all-new dress. Things were starting to shape up and Rose was getting a much better idea of exactly what she _did_ want. Osgood was warming up to the situation and offering more input - valuable input - and Rose was even more glad she’d brought her along.

“It just occurred to me,” Rose said, her eyes wide, “I’ll need the dress to be made or modified in such a way that I can nurse the baby easily. She’ll only be six months old - I’m sure I’ll have to feed her at some point during the festivities.”

“We can bottle feed her,” Jackie said, brushing her aside. “Don’t worry about that. How does that one feel?”

Rose looked down at the gown she was wearing. Exquisite, sheer lace covered the full skirt and billowed around her. The long sleeves were also sheer lace down to her wrists, and she could feel the cool air on her back. She had worn beautiful gowns to royal balls with the Doctor, had been dressed and pampered by queens and empresses, and had wowed entire crowds when she’d made entrances. But she’d never in her life felt quite as beautiful as she did right in that moment, standing in the back of a bridal salon, looking into the mirror. 

Maria stepped forward and placed a long veil on her head, arranging it just so, and Rose brushed aside tears. 

“I feel like a princess.”

~*~O~*~

30 July, 2012

“Here you go, Eleanor,” Rose said, snapping the baby into her bouncy seat and flipping the switch that started the soothing vibrations. “How about you and I chat while Mummy makes dinner, hm?”

Eleanor didn’t seem opposed to that, just looked up at her mother with big blue eyes, so Rose kissed her forehead and went to the counter to get to work. 

“These are carrots that Mummy is chopping now, sweet girl. Your Nan used to get me to eat carrots by telling me that they’d help me have really great eyes. Nan told me that bunny rabbits loved to eat carrots, and you never saw bunny rabbits wearing glasses, now did you?” 

Rose grinned at her daughter and the little girl looked back up at her guilelessly. 

“I don’t know if they _actually_ help your eyes or if your Nan was pulling my leg, but I’m sure they’re quite good for you. Nearly all vegetables are. But it was never a hardship to eat them. They taste good and besides, they’re a pretty color. See?” She held up a carrot to show the baby and pointed at the root, then the top. “This color is called ‘orange’ and this is called ‘green’.”

The baby cooed a bit, kicking her feet and making the seat bounce a little. 

“Oh, no, love. Not yet. You’re too little to eat carrots. They’re crunchy and you don’t even have teeth! No, best to stick to milk for you just now. But soon I’ll bet you can have some strained carrots. Would you like that?”

Eleanor put her thumb into her mouth, as if to keep anything _else_ from being put in there, and Rose chuckled. She went on about preparing one of the few meals she could remember how to make without using a recipe, describing what she was doing as she went. The baby watched her every move, taking it all in, and Rose wondered if all babies’ eyes were as alert as intelligent as Eleanor’s. Probably not, she decided. Eleanor was special. 

Rose turned her back to Eleanor to work at the stove, and when she turned back around a couple of minutes later, the baby had fallen asleep. Her hands were covered in butter, so she decided to let the little one sleep where she was for the time being. 

Within just a few minutes, Rose heard the tell-tale sounds of Ian returning home from work: the garage door opening, the SUV pulling into the garage, the engine shutting off, then the garage door closing again. She smiled, happy that she’d see him in just a moment, and kept cooking, hoping to impress him with how far she’d gotten without setting off the smoke alarm. 

She turned to smile at him when the door opened, her hands still busy, and felt something warm rush through her when he smiled back at her. Every day she loved this man more and wondered how she’d ever lived without him. 

“Hello there, sweetheart,” he said, breezing across the kitchen, slipping one arm around her waist and kissing her soundly. When he released her, “Everything going alright? No fires?”

“Haha, you wisearse.” She couldn’t help but grin. “No fires.”

Ian chuckled. “Where’s the baby?”

Rose indicated the bouncy seat with her head. “She’s over there. Fell asleep a few minutes ago. If you want to put her in her swing, she may sleep a while. She was up a rather long time this afternoon.”

“Will do, sweetheart. Then I’ll change clothes and help you cook, shall I?”

“I’d like that,” she told him with a flirty tongue-between-teeth grin. He smiled back then gently picked up Eleanor, cradling her close, and took her into the lounge to sleep in her swing, murmuring to her as he went. Rose watched him go with warm eyes that moistened a bit, thinking about how lucky she was to have this man and this baby in her life. Out of everyone in all of time and space, she was the one to have been bestowed with this gift. The mind boggled. 

In just a few minutes, Ian was back in the kitchen wearing one of his favorite t-shirts and a pair of jeans that fit him just so. Rose eyed him covertly as he made his way across the room. 

“Something smells divine,” he remarked in an offhand way.

“It’s nothing special,” she answered, feeling chuffed while she stirred the ingredients for the dessert she was making. “It’s just roasted chicken and some vegetables.”

“I’m sure they’re lovely,” Ian said, sidling up behind her, his arms snaking around her waist and his lips going to the skin of her neck. “But I suspect that what smells so appetizing in here is you.”

Rose felt a thrill to from the tips of her toes to the top of her head at his seductive tone, but decided to tease him a little. “Oi!” she protested, spinning in his arms and putting her hands on her hips in mock consternation. “Are you saying this dinner doesn’t smell divine? After I slaved over a hot stove...”

“You’re filling my senses, sweetheart,” he fairly growled, bending to nip at her neck. “All I know is you.”

Rose knew that tone and she knew perfectly well that if she let him carry on, they’d be shagging on or against the nearest available surface within minutes. She had to admit, the idea had scads of merit. Especially when his lips were dancing across her pulse point just like that…

“You taste amazing, too,” he informed her between tiny nips at her skin. His hands gripped her hips, massaging them, and she could feel him hardening against her lower abdomen. “Want to taste you everywhere.”

Rose closed her eyes, trying hard to remember why they shouldn’t be doing this right here, right now, but all she could think about was the way his body rolled against hers, the way heat gathered between her legs, the way he growled and clutched her bum possessively when she ran her fingers through his hair, surrendering to whatever he wanted, however he wanted it. She was his, completely and totally. 

She was just about to turn and sweep all of the cooking paraphernalia off the island onto the floor when the smoke alarm started blaring over their heads. Ian broke away from her suddenly, swearing profusely, and scrambling to get to the smoke detector on the ceiling. Rose blinked for just a second, disoriented, then came to her senses and ran to the stove, throwing it open and pulling her chicken out. Everything looked alright, nothing appeared to be ruined, the alarm was just sensitive. 

Speaking of sensitive…

Eleanor started crying from the next room as Rose sat the cooked meal on top of the stove, and before she could turn around, Ian was already on his way to get her. He came back a moment later, cradling her close, murmuring to her and soothing her, and Rose smiled at the sight. 

“There’s daddy’s girl. Did your nap get interrupted, Little Face? I’m sorry. That mean old smoke detector can be a bother sometimes. But it keeps you safe, and that makes it terribly important.” He bent down and kissed her when she smiled up at him. “Daddy loves you, baby girl.” 

“I think the smoke detector saved dinner,” Rose joked. “It doesn’t appear to actually be burned.”

“Good,” he said, leaning over and kissing her softly. “I’m sorry I got carried away.”

Rose giggled. “No you’re not. And neither am I. It would have been worth a burnt chicken to me.”

“Me, too. But later, yeah?”

“I’m counting on it, Ian Docherty.”


	97. Chapter 97

11 August, 2012

The light coming in through the windows was watery and weak, partially because of the earliness of the hour, partially because of the weather. Warm summer raindrops pattered the windows gently, adding their white noise to an already soft environment. It was the perfect morning for a lie-in, and it seemed the two occupants of the room were intending to do just that. 

Ian woke when Rose came back after going to the loo. She crawled into the bed and took her rightful place as the little spoon to his big spoon, nuzzling backwards until she was as close to him as she could get, only their pyjamas separating them. His arms went around her lazily, enfolding her, and she settled into him comfortably. He couldn’t help the contented sigh that escaped. 

“Good morning,” she whispered tentatively, as if testing the waters to see if he was awake. 

“Mmm. Good morning, sweetheart.”

“I didn’t mean to wake you. I’m sorry.”

“Never be sorry, sweetheart. Did you notice?”

“Notice what?”

He smiled and pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “The quiet. We’re up before Eleanor.”

Rose squirmed a little and he knew she was smiling, too. “That’s rather unusual.”

His arms tightened around her a little. “Means I get to hold you for a while before we have to get up.”

“Yes, it does.”

“Mmm.”

They laid there together, silent in each other’s arms while the room slowly filled with light from the windows behind Ian and the rain continued to fall. The fingers of his left hand were twined with hers and he used his free hand to caress the bare strip of tummy that was exposed by her shirt riding up. He kissed her shoulder and murmured to her every now and again; nothing of any significance, just little reassurances that she was the light of his life. 

“It’s Saturday, yes?”

“I think so. Yes, because I had lunch with Anna and Philip yesterday.”

“What do we have to do today? Remind me again?”

“We have to meet with Donna at one.”

“For what?”

“For cake tasting and to choose a design.”

“At her office?”

“No, at some bakery. I have the address saved in my mobile.”

“What kind of cake do you want, sweetheart?”

She shrugged against him. “I don’t know. Whatever tastes best, I suppose. Why? What do you want?” 

“Oh, you know me. I’m old and boring. I like just plain cake, but I’m open to anything you like.”

“No reason we can’t have more than one flavor, if we’re having more than one tier.”

“That’s very true,” Ian agreed. “Is that all we’re doing today?”

“No, if we get done in time and Eleanor cooperates, we’re going to go back to Donna’s office and start working on floral arrangements. Colors and whatnot.”

“Today is the day I get to pick out my wife’s wedding flowers?”

Rose giggled in his arms and scooted a little closer. “Say it again.”

Ian feigned innocence. “What? We’re going to look at flowers?”

She squeezed his hand. “Not that.”

“We’re going to have cake for lunch?” he teased. “Rather looking forward to that, actually…”

“No, you daft thing,” she giggled. “ _Say it again._ ”

“Oooh,” he said, pretending that comprehension was just dawning. “You mean the part where I called you my _wife_.”

“That’s the one,” she sighed happily. “Say it again.”

He rumbled close to her ear. “It’s tradition for an Italian groom to present flowers to his wife as a token of his love. Since there is no one I love better than you, Rose Tyler, and you will become my wife that day…”

“I’ll be Rose Docherty,” she breathed, and Ian felt gooseflesh race up and down his arms and legs. 

“Yes, sweetheart, you will. Mrs. Rose Docherty, my wife. Unless you’d prefer to keep Tyler?”

“No,” she said at once, pulling his arms around her a little tighter. “I want to take my husband’s name.”

Ian closed his eyes and let those two words wash over him. _My husband._ He would be her husband in just couple short months. 

“I can’t fucking wait,” he admitted, kissing her shoulder, then her neck, earning a tiny giggle from her. His hand squeezed hers a little and his hips rolled forward of their own volition, pressing against her bum. The giggle died when she felt him hardening and if he’d been able to see her face, he’d have been willing to bet that she was biting her lip now. 

He continued to press kisses to her shoulder and neck, his free hand exploring the familiar ground of her waist, moving the hem of her pyjama top out of the way. Rose arched her back a little, pressing her bum against his cock, and he met her motion, sure now that slow, sleepy sex was in order for this morning. He let his fingers trail downward, dipping below the waistband of her pyjamas, feeling himself grow even harder with every inch of soft, silky skin he explored. She rolled her hips backwards again and wriggled a little, nestling his hardness in the crease of her bum, then started grinding to provide him with fucking fantastic friction that nearly made him groan. 

When he reached the barrier of her knickers, he only waited a moment before he slid his hand down the front of them, seeking out the place he knew would be wet for him. Rose, his accommodating sweetheart, parted her legs for him in invitation. He couldn’t help but smirk and nipped the shoulder in front of him. 

“I’ve come to a decision, Rose,” he said in a low voice, his middle finger dipping between her lips and gathering moisture. 

“A decision?”

“Yes. I’ve decided to make you come before I let you get out of bed.”

“Oh, you have?” She ground her hips backwards into him a little harder, and Ian bit his lip to keep from groaning. His sweetheart liked when he took command in the bedroom, when he was just a little bit dominant, but she also liked pushing his buttons until he was mad with lust and snapped. It was a game they played often and he fucking loved it.

“Mhm. I have. At least once, possibly twice.”

“And how do you propose to do that?”

He slid his finger up through her wetness to her clit, circling it, eliciting a gasp from her, then a little moan. 

“Like that, to start,” he told her between little kisses to her neck. The arm that wasn’t occupied with stroking her was pinned beneath her, but a little maneuvering and it was free enough that he could get a hand under her t-shirt to palm her breast and flick the nipple. 

“Ian,” she whimpered, and he was smug.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“I’m close.”

“Already? We’ve barely gotten started,” he teased, tightening the spiral on her clit. 

She reached behind herself so her hand cupped the back of his head, threading her fingers through his hair and scratching at his scalp. Ian shuddered with pleasure - the little minx knew that drove him wild. 

“Please…” she moaned, and Ian took pity on her. He removed his finger from her clit, earning a whine from low in Rose’s throat, but quickly replaced it with his thumb while he plunged two fingers into her sopping heat. She let out a low cry and he shushed her gently while she rode his hand enthusiastically. 

“Careful, Rose… if you wake the baby, this will all be over.”

“It’s so good, Ian. It’s so good… please...”

He lowered his forehead to her shoulder and concentrated on building her higher and bringing her off, coordinating the thrusts of his fingers into her heat with the pinching and pulling of his other hand and the rolling of his hips against her bum. She rambled, saying nothing but revealing everything, begging him for more, begging him to fuck her.

“I will, sweetheart. I’ll fuck you, I swear. But you have to come for me. Come on my hand.”

“I can’t, it’s too good…” she whined. 

“Are you close?” he asked, knowing perfectly well from the fluttering around his fingers that she was. 

“Yes, yes, please, yes, I’m going to come, please let me come…”

He bit her shoulder gently at the same time he curled his two fingers within her and intensified the stroking of her clit, and Rose’s entire body tensed against him. She moaned, pressing back against his cock, her tight channel clenching around his fingers while he worked her through, murmuring praises, pinching and pulling her nipple. She was so hot in his arms, so _fucking_ hot, and he told her so, willing his cock not to explode. When she’d settled just a little he withdrew his hand from her, not taking the time to lick his fingers clean the way he normally would, and started tugging down her pyjama pants and knickers, baring her arse. 

When Rose caught onto what he was doing she set out to help, tugging off her shirt, tossing it away and starting to roll over onto her back, but Ian stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “No. I want you just like this,” he informed her, his eyes smoldering. She nodded, biting her lip, then rolled back over to her side meekly, offering herself to him. 

Ian couldn’t take his eyes off of her perfect peach of a rump while he shoved his own pyjama trousers down, kicking them away. He stroked himself lightly while he just took in the sight of her, the way her waist curved and dipped, the velvety softness of her bum, and he could already feel his bollocks tightening. He had to have her. Now. 

He scooted forward so he was flush against her again, kissing her bare shoulder and sliding his hand down around her thigh. She followed the gentle pressure there and lifted her leg, lying it back and overtop his, opening herself up to him. He wasted no time before guiding his cock to her entrance and pressing in, earning a moan of pleasure from her and a muttered, ‘fuck’ from him. 

“That good?” he asked when he started to rock in and out of her, fucking her slowly and gently. 

“More,” she demanded, pressing back against him. “Don’t stop.”

He had no intention of stopping until they were both mindless, but it wouldn’t take long. He gripped her hip tightly, not worrying about bruising her at the moment, needing to feel her around him, needing to _fuck her_ , and sped up his thrusts. The faster and harder he went, the more filth spilled from her dirty, pretty little mouth, and the more fired up he got. Within minutes, the only sounds in the room were Rose’s low wail, broken into grunts by Ian’s thrusting, his praise and encouragement for her, and the wet slap of their bodies against each other. 

“Please, please, Ian,” she sobbed while he did his damndest to stave off the orgasm that was looming ever closer. “Please, I’m going to come.”

Well, he had promised her…

With a mighty effort, he let go of her hip and reached around to seek out her clit, knocking her hand away from where it was rubbing frantic circles and taking over the job for himself. If anyone was going to bring her off, it would be him. And it needed to be fucking soon, because he was just about to explode. 

“Come, Rose,” he commanded, ruthlessly spiraling on her little nub. “Come for me.”

She obeyed, arching herself into a bow and wailing his name brokenly. He did his damndest to prolong her orgasm but released, a tidal wave of ecstasy rolling through his body and into her while he called her name and told her he loved her. 

The next thing he knew, Rose was lying a little in front of him, both of them panting for air. Despite the fact they were still joined it wasn’t close enough for Ian and he put his arms around her, pulling her as close as he could get her, not complaining at all when she turned her body to face him and he slid out of her. She nuzzled into his chest, putting her arms around him, as well, and he sighed contentedly. 

“I love you, sweetheart,” he breathed, his thoughts making themselves into words. 

“I love you, too.”

He stroked her back, enjoying the way she shivered a little, and he mentally tallied the days until she would be his wife. Fifteen weeks. Three and a half months. A hundred and six days.

“I can’t believe Eleanor slept through that,” Rose said, breaking into his thoughts, and he could tell by her tone she was grinning. 

“I can’t, either,” Ian agreed, also grinning. “Maybe the sound of the rain soothed her.”

“Could be. Maybe we should invest in a white noise machine so we can do this more often.”

He leaned back to look at her. “Oh? Is that something you’d like?”

“Absolutely. I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed waking up so much. Although I have to say,” she went on with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, “After this morning, I now have more life experience.”

Ian raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“Mhm. I’d never quite experienced being fucked without a kiss until just now...”

He laughed, then settled into a smile and stroked her cheek. “Well, I’m glad you have more life experience now, but I never intended to go without kissing you. Please allow me to rectify my mistake…”

Her parents were still kissing and caressing a few minutes later when Eleanor alerted them she was awake.

~*~O~*~

Ian didn’t think it was particularly ideal to bring the baby along for wedding planning, but most of the people he trusted to leave Eleanor with wanted to come along for the cake tasting and Donna genuinely didn’t seem to mind having an infant around. Besides, Eleanor was an easy baby and between the five adults (Rose, Ian, Donna, Jackie and Osgood), there were plenty of hands on deck to take care of whatever she needed.

Jackie had her at the moment while Donna gathered everyone around a simply-set table in the private tasting room of a bakery. Rose and Donna flipped through one book of wedding cake designs while Jackie and Osgood did the same with another and Ian peered over Rose’s shoulder, offering occasional input. 

“This is lovely,” Rose said, pointing to a three-tier cake adorned with a fondant bow. 

“You’ll need a larger cake than that,” Jackie snorted. “At least two more layers. We have to serve three hundred guests!”

Ian could almost hear Rose’s jaw drop. He, however, had expected something like this. 

“Mum, that’s more than double the number of guests we said we wanted.”

“I know that,” Jackie said dismissively, “but there are too many people we simply can’t leave out. People your father has worked with…”

“Mum…”

“That has to be pared down, Jackie,” Ian told her, his voice firm. “That’s entirely too fucking large.”

“You said Rose could have whatever she wanted,” Jackie challenged.

“And she’s free to override me, but I want it pared down. No more than two hundred guests, and that’s final.”

“This is Rose’s wedding --”

“And it’s Ian’s wedding, too, Mum. One hundred and fifty was my top number. He’s being generous. Two hundred is the absolute limit.”

“But Rose -”

“No buts, Mum. Two hundred is the limit.”

Jackie huffed, but let it die. Ian doubted they’d heard the last of this particular debate, but wasn’t about to bring it up. Besides, there wasn’t time. The head baker appeared, wearing a chef’s outfit and carrying a serving tray bearing five large plates. Each plate had seven small slices of cake, labeled by flavor. The chef explained a couple of things quickly, telling them that the ice-cold milk that was being poured served as a palate cleanser, then making himself available for questions but stepping back so he wasn’t hovering. Following Donna’s lead, everyone took up their forks and speared a small bite of cake. 

“This is delicious,” Osgood cooed around a mouthful of chocolate with raspberry mousse, and Ian had to agree it was heavenly. 

“Mmm,” Rose said, her eyes rolling back a little in her head as she chewed the bite she’d just taken. “Try the spice cake.”

Ian, as instructed, took a drink of the milk, then a bite of the spice cake. He had to admit, it tasted divine. 

“Blimey,” Jackie marveled. “Even the plain vanilla cake is to die for, Rose!”

Osgood, Jackie, and Rose chattered excitedly about the cake flavors they were tasting, waking Eleanor up. Jackie propped the baby up so she was ‘sitting’ and could see everything, and Ian smiled at his daughter, taking everything in with her wise blue eyes. She smiled back when she caught sight of him, and he started to reach for her, but she was happy with her Nan at the moment and besides, Ian had already upset Jackie enough for one day. No sense poking the bear, so to speak. 

“This is interesting,” Osgood said, taking a bite of the almond cake. “Is this buttercream?”

“The icing is, yes,” the chef replied. “The filling, however, is mashed banana with just a hint of sugar.”

“Here, love, taste this,” Jackie said, testing Ian’s resolve not to pick a fight immediately by dipping her finger into the filling, getting a tiny bit on her finger, then bringing her finger to Eleanor’s mouth for the baby to taste.

“Mum!”

“She’s too little!” Ian protested.

“Oh, she is not,” Jackie pooh-poohed the both of them. “She’s three months old and already getting her first tooth. A little taste of what the grownups are having isn’t going to hurt her, and both of you know it. Besides, the gentleman just said it’s mostly fruit. Relax.”

Eleanor reached for the plate and Jackie dipped her finger into the almond cake’s banana filling again, letting the baby have another taste. Eleanor ate it up greedily, then reached for more. 

“Would you look at that? This baby girl loves bananas! Might have known she would.”

“What do you mean by that?” Ian asked, confused.

“Well, she’s just like her father, isn’t she?”

Ian was puzzled for just a second until a memory he hadn’t thought of in months roared to the forefront of his mind. Rose, sitting on his bed at Pete’s house months earlier, staring at a bowl of fruit with tears streaming down her face, telling him that the Doctor had loved bananas. They’d been his favorite, she’d said. His heart had been breaking when he’d told her that she should eat one every now and then, that they were full of potassium. 

Now he looked down at his cake plate and saw that the almond and banana cake was gone, but knew he hadn’t commented on it. Jackie hadn’t meant Ian when she’d said ‘her father’. She’d meant that bloody fucking alien bastard that was still injecting himself into Ian’s life even from a fucking universe away. 

Maybe Jackie hadn’t meant to hurt him, maybe she’d only said it thoughtlessly, but he still felt absolutely sick over her words, utterly defeated, and a little like crying. 

_No._ He was here, now, with Rose and his daughter, and they were picking out wedding cake. In just over three months, he was going to make Rose his wife. They were happy together, and he was going to spend the rest of his life keeping her happy. The Doctor didn’t factor in, and Jackie’s offhand comment was just that. 

Ian dismissed it, doing his best to brush it off, but he did lean over and take _his_ daughter from Jackie’s arms, cuddling her close. And when she looked up at him, giving him her bright, drooly smile, his soul was set at ease. He kissed her pudgy cheek then leaned over and kissed Rose’s cheek, dismissing the last of the discomfort brought about by Jackie’s words. He had his girls, and that was all he needed.


	98. Chapter 98

29 August 2012

Ian moved around the kitchen, making himself a sandwich for dinner and keeping up a running commentary for the baby who sat in the bouncy seat at the end of the counter. Rose had gone out to dinner with Osgood tonight and then the two of them were going shopping for attendant’s gifts or something else wedding related. Ian had been left home with his Little Face - not that he minded, of course. He and the baby usually had a wonderful time together, and he loved every moment of fatherhood, even the mundane ones, like now. 

He dropped a slice of ham on the floor and let fly with a loud ‘fuck!’ before he thought about it. Eleanor giggled from her bouncy seat, kicking her little legs and waving her fists, making Ian grin. 

“Oh, you think that’s funny, do you? You think it’s funny when Daddy drops something? Or is it funny when Daddy says bad words?”

Eleanor looked up at him expectantly and Ian darted his eyes around the room, as if to check and make absolutely sure Rose wasn’t around to hear what he was about to do. 

“Fucksticks.”

The baby laughed again, a full laugh that came from her little belly, and Ian couldn’t help but cackle. 

“Cockwomble.”

She laughed harder, and Ian was terribly chuffed with himself. 

“Fannyflapping wankstain.”

Eleanor squealed with glee, her whole body shaking with laughter, and Ian bounced on the balls of his feet, feeling like a bit of a hero. He’d never heard her laugh quite like that and was just about to burst with pride that he’d brought it on. She actually had tears in her eyes! 

“While we’re using swear words and no one’s around, your uncle Fergus is an arse badger, a fucking walloper, and it’s best you be learning that quickly, my girl.”

If it had been possible for a baby to roar, Ian was positive his little girl would have been doing so, laughing at him. As it was, she had big tears standing in her eyes and he swooped down to pick her up, ignoring the sandwich he’d just made, feeling compelled to snuggle his brilliant girl for a minute. 

“There’s Daddy’s girl. You like it when Daddy talks to you, eh? You always have. Used to pummel your Mummy’s insides when Daddy would speak to you, you cheeky thing,” he said, nuzzling the still-giggling girl.

Eleanor grabbed for his glasses at the same time his mobile rang on the counter, and he gently pulled her hand away from his specs so he could see the screen. It was a FaceTime call from a Glasgow number he didn’t recognize and he nearly ignored it, but pressed the green button on impulse. 

The screen went black, then opened up on the beautifully wizened face of his Auntie, peering at the screen down her nose like she was trying to puzzle it out, muttering to herself. 

“Auntie!”

“There you are!”

“I told you you were doing it correctly, Mam,” Ian heard Fergus in the background.

She waved him off, over her shoulder. “You’ve got the baby,” she said to Ian.

“I do,” Ian said, bouncing Eleanor a bit and turning the mobile so Auntie could see her better. “Say hi, Eleanor.”

There was a little bit of a scuffle on the other side of the screen and Fergus came into view over Auntie’s shoulder. Eleanor giggled a bit, and Ian wondered if she was remembering what he’d told her just a couple of minutes before.

“Hi, Ellie! Oh, bless, Ian, she’s the bonniest bairn there ever was,” Fergus declared, and Auntie nodded.

“She really is, Ian.”

“I tend to think so,” he bragged a little, then pressed a kiss to the baby’s cheek. “And she’s growing so fast… she’s a month or so ahead in her development.”

“Well, she couldn’t help but be brilliant.”

“Be crawling before you know it,” Auntie predicted.

“Christ, I hope not.”

He could _feel_ Auntie’s scowl through the screen, and Fergus chuckled. “I’ll let you two chat. You coming up here anytime soon, nimnole?”

“Weekend after next, I think,” Ian told him. 

“See you then.” Fergus waved, then disappeared from the screen.

“So,” Ian smiled at Auntie, making his way into the lounge then settling down in his chair with the baby, forgetting all about his food in the kitchen. “You finally let Fergus talk you into a mobile?”

“He wouldn’t let up about it,” Auntie grumbled a little. “We just got home and he showed me how to do this face thing with you lot.”

“Well I’m glad he did. You’ll get to see more of Eleanor this way.” 

“And you.”

“And me,” he agreed.

“Is Rose around?”

“No, she’s gone out with her friend Osgood, they’re having dinner and doing some wedding shopping. Did you want to speak with her? I can give you her number, I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to hear from you.”

“No, I wanted to speak with you, actually.”

“Oh? Is anything wrong?”

“No, nothing at all. I’ve been looking through the attic, through your parents’ things.”

“Why?”

“I thought I may run across some things you could use for the wedding,” she explained simply. “I’m determined that Thomas and Isabel be there for their son’s wedding day, and the only way I can do that is through the things they left behind.”

Ian swallowed hard and nodded. “Right.”

“I found your father’s cufflinks that I thought you may want to wear. If I recall correctly, they were a gift from your mother. Even if you don’t use them for the wedding, I thought you may like to have hem.”

“I’d love them. Thank you, Auntie.”

“I also found a large stash of your mother’s jewelry. I don’t know how much of it Rose would want. Some of it is very nice - your father had quite good taste - but some of it is just costume jewelry. Brooches were popular at the time, so there are lots of those. Nobody wears them anymore, though, so I doubt Rose would be interested. I’ll set them aside for you, anyway, just in case. Perhaps she can find something to use for the wedding. I also found their luckenbooth, in case you want to give it to Rose.”

“Luckenbooth?”

“A bridegroom presents his fiance with a luckenbooth as a token of his love before the wedding. She wears it on the wedding day, and then it’s worn again on the blanket of the couple’s first child when it’s christened. This is the one your father gave your mother, and it was pinned to your blanket at your christening. You could give it to Rose, then pin it to Eleanor’s blanket.”

“You’re doing too much, Auntie,” Ian told her to avoid thinking too hard about everything he was being offered and consequently losing the battle with the tears pricking his eyes. 

“I’d be doing much more if I were closer,” she assured him with a smile. “I wish I could do more for you. It’s the biggest day of your life.”

“Just be there, Auntie. That’s all I really need. I just need your support.”

“Well, you have it, son.” She smiled at him and Ian blinked back tears. “How’s my wee grandbaby?”

Ian looked down to Eleanor, nestled in the crook of his arm, and saw that she’d fallen asleep, her thumb in her mouth. “She’s passed out, it seems. A wee bit early, but that’s alright. She wakes up about half ten for a nightcap, then sleeps through the night, so this is really more of a nap. This time of night is when Rose and I usually eat dinner and watch telly.”

“I’ll let you go do that, then.”

“You don’t have to, Auntie. Rose isn’t even here.”

“No, I have to feed your cousin, anyway, before he makes a disaster out of my kitchen trying to forage for something to eat.”

Ian grinned: Fergus was generally a neat person, but could be a bit of a mess when he was searching for something to eat. He’d had plenty of first-hand experience with that when they were roommates in Uni.

“Well you go tend to that, then. I’m going to put this little lady in her swing so she can sleep.”

“Goodnight, Ian. Talk to you soon?”

“Of course, Auntie.”

“Love you, son.”

“Love you, too.”

Ian pressed the red button to end the call and sat the mobile down beside him. He cuddled Eleanor for a minute but she felt a bit hot, so he pulled off her socks to help cool her off, laid her in the swing and covered her with a thin blanket instead of her usual thick one before he pressed the button to set the swing into motion. Satisfied that she was sleeping peacefully, he went to the kitchen, retrieved his sandwich and came back to the lounge, having a seat in his chair and putting the telly on the news - something mindless, just for some background noise to accompany the clicking of Eleanor’s swing. 

Auntie’s news about his parents’ jewelry had left him...not _rattled_ , per se, but affected. Nostalgic. He wanted to pick through it, to hold each piece in his hands, to feel what he could of his parents that way. He, like Auntie, wanted to include his parents in his wedding day, but he didn’t want to force his mother’s jewelry on Rose. His sweetheart would be gracious about it, he was sure, but still…

Suddenly, he remembered something he had seen in one of Rose’s bridal magazines when she was looking through it while lying in bed. He got up to go get the magazine he thought it was in, flipping through it quickly until he landed on the picture he wanted. Bingo. He pulled out his mobile, took a photo to email Donna, then put the magazine back where he’d found it. 

Eleanor was still asleep when he checked on her, so he took a seat in his chair nearby. The news was fucking boring so he flipped channels. Turned out there was _nothing_ of any interest on, and Ian felt himself slipping into a vegetative state. It was so reminiscent of his life before Rose and Eleanor that he found himself looking over to the swing several times, just to reassure himself that she was there and it hadn’t all been a dream. The soft clicking sound of her swing was comforting, and he relaxed, letting himself be soothed. 

His mobile rang beside him, breaking into the peacefulness of the moment quite rudely, and he snatched it up before it could wake the baby. He glanced at the screen long enough to see it was Pete before he answered quietly, getting to his feet to leave the room.

“Hello?”

“Ian. Did I wake you?”

“No, I was watching telly while the baby slept.”

“Did I wake _her_?”

Ian glanced over his shoulder to see that she’d barely stirred, was still snoozing peacefully in her swing. “No. I left the room.”

“Good.”

“What’s going on?”

“You told me to keep you apprised of the Stockman situation.”

He froze, his whole body at rigid attention, staring at nothing. “I did,” he answered slowly. 

“There have been developments. I wanted you to hear them from me.”

“Go on.”

“Vitex had been in negotiations for the last several months with Stockman and Stockman Foods to develop new product, and that had generated buzz in the industry, driving his stock up. But I allowed some “reputable sources” to start a rumor that Vitex intended to back out on that deal and are actively courting other companies. In the last several weeks, there has been a sudden, sharp decline in Stockman Foods’ value.”

“How sudden and how sharp?”

“His B shares have gone from £72.31 per share to less than eleven pounds.”

Ian staggered a little and leaned against the doorframe. “That’s…”

“That’s an 85 per cent drop. Meanwhile, his three leading competitors have grown by between thirteen and twenty-two per cent.”

“Fucking unbelievable,” he muttered. 

“For all intents and purposes, he’s ruined.”

“So you’re going with another company?”

“No. I’m going to wait until his stock drops below eight pounds a share - and it will - and then I’m going to pay a little visit to his Board of Directors, buy the company myself on the condition that they remove him, and put the whole thing in Eleanor’s name.”

Ian was forced to sit down. “Pete --”

“The production of new product will go forward as originally planned, and Eleanor will be incredibly wealthy - independent of you or me.”

“But --”

“You’re not going to try to change my mind, are you?” Pete challenged him. 

“Of course not! It’s just… this is fucking _huge_ , Pete.”

“She’s my granddaughter, I should be setting her up financially anyway. But knowing that I’m doing it on the backs of two people who called her a bastard is just incredibly satisfying,” Pete said, his voice icy, and Ian had to agree. 

There was nothing he could say, really, except, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. But there’s more.”

“What the fuck else could you possibly have done?”

“I hired a private investigator to gather evidence of both John and Michelle’s infidelities. He produced thick files on both of them - photographs, phone records, the works - and then set up a dinner date between the two of them at the Waterfront. Then he paid off the waiter to serve each of them with the evidence of the others’ wrongdoing.”

“Oh my God,” Ian groaned, huffing a laugh, covering his face with his hand, wishing he could have seen that. 

“It all just happened a little over an hour ago. From what I understand, they caused a terrible scene. Both were shouting and calling each other names. Michelle threw her water in his face, and the police had to escort them from the premises.”

Ian couldn’t help but laugh derisively at the thought of John Stockman standing in the middle of a posh restaurant being called out for the cheater he was, water dripping all down his face. It couldn’t have happened to a more deserving bastard, in his opinion. 

“Good,” he managed to say.

“That’s going to be society gossip for years to come, so you might want to let Rose know that it happened. Feel free to blame it all on me.”

“Oh, no,” Ian protested. “I think I’ll be happy to take a little of the heat off of you for that one. Bloody hell, Ringo. Remind me to never get on your fucking bad side.”

“You can start by never calling me ‘Ringo’ again. And never, ever hurt my daughter or granddaughter.”

“I think you know by now you never have to worry about that,” Ian said seriously. 

“I do. But you _could_ knock off the Ringo thing.”

Ian snorted. “Never gonna happen.”

Pete sighed. “Worth a shot. Listen, I’m going to ring off and go try to see if I can find security footage from the Waterfront from about an hour ago. Should make for entertaining viewing, don’t you think?”

“If you find that footage, I demand to see it.”

“Of course. We’ll have a watch before we shoot on Tuesday night.”

“Good man.” 

“What are best mates for?”

A pair of headlights flashed across the window as a car pulled into the drive, and Ian got to his feet again. “Your daughter’s home.”

“I’ll let you go tell her about this, then. Good luck.”

Ian snorted. “Thanks ever so.”

“Remember, just blame me.”

“Will do.”

They rang off and Ian went to the door, opening it to greet Rose. She fairly bounced up the porch stairs, kissing him lightly in greeting, then turned and waved to Osgood when she backed down the drive.

“Hi!” she chirped when Ian shut the door. 

“Hello, yourself. Did you have a good time?”

Rose breezed by him into the kitchen, setting her bags down on the table. “We had a lovely time. I love my mum, you know that, but I get more done when I don’t have her in my ear going on about every little thing.”

Ian could empathize with that - he couldn’t imagine having Jackie in his ear all the time. Poor Pete. At least Rose was spared from that now, for the most part.

“What did you get?”

“Flasks,” Rose said, pulling a box out of one of the bags. “Sterling silver flasks. They can be engraved, but I didn’t know what you’d want to say to Fergus and I couldn’t think of what to say to Mickey on the spot, so we can take them back when we come up with something.”

“That sounds like a plan.” He leaned over to the other bag he knew to be from a lingerie store and hooked his finger in the top, peering inside. “What’s this?”

She snatched it away from him, grinning with her tongue between her teeth. “That’s for me to know and you to find out, mister.”

Ian raised an eyebrow. “And when, exactly, do I get to find out?”

“Depends,” she said in a flirty way, stepping forward and walking her fingers up his shirt, then kissing him gently. “Where’s our daughter?”

“She’s asleep. Been out for a little over an hour.”

“Ah, so we don’t have enough time. Maybe tomorrow night, then.” She giggled and spun out of his grasp with the bag and Ian’s hands clenched uselessly beside him. The minx.

“Anything interesting happen while I was away?” she asked, pulling a bottle of Vitex out of the fridge.

He felt a sliver of dread at what he had to tell her, but knew he had no choice, so he plowed ahead. “Actually, yes. You might want to sit down.”

“Uh-oh,” she said after she swallowed her gulp of drink, then came over to join him at the island. “Is it bad?”

“No, actually, I think it’s rather fan-fucking-tastic, but you may think differently.”

She eyed him warily. “Go ahead.”

Ian wasn’t entirely sure where to begin. He decided that, even if he would be repeating himself a bit, he should probably remind her exactly _why_ it had happened, padding it a bit. 

“In February, at your mum’s birthday party, I had a run-in with John Stockman. He made some lewd comments about you, made some disparaging comments about Eleanor’s paternity, and was generally fucking disgusting. I told him that if he ever spoke to you or about you in that way again, I’d expose him for cheating on his wife.”

“Okay, I already knew part of that…” she said slowly.

“I asked your father after that night to keep Stockman away from me - and you. I didn’t tell him what had happened, only that Stockman and I had had words. I think he must have guessed, though. He kept us apart by blackballing them from all his social events. Michelle didn’t take that well and lashed out at you at the theatre.”

“I remember.” Rose’s eyes were shuttered and Ian desperately wanted to change the subject, but had to get this out. 

“I told your father what happened that night between you and Michelle. I also finally told him everything that had happened at Jackie’s party. He… was angry. Almost as angry as I was.”

“What did you do, Ian?” Rose asked, apparently cottoning on. 

“Michelle and John were both publicly exposed tonight for having multiple affairs. They had a row and were kicked out of a restaurant.”

“Oh my God,” Rose gasped. “You made good on your threat.”

“I didn’t get a chance. Your father wouldn’t let me. But I absolutely would have,” he told her, regardless of the look on her face. “Pete wants me to let him take the entirety of the blame for all this, but I can’t. I wanted to help and he wouldn’t let me.”

Rose sat quietly for a second, looking at her hands in her lap, and Ian just let her ruminate in her thoughts. After a minute, he gently prodded her. “Sweetheart.”

“I should be sorry. I know I should. But mostly I’m just glad I’ll never have to see them again.”

“You won’t,” he rushed to assure her, “but that’s not all your father did.”

Her eyes widened. “There’s more?”

Ian nodded. “He’s all but bankrupted Stockman’s company. The value has fallen by 85 per cent. Your father intends to buy out the company, then rehabilitate it and make it successful again - all in Eleanor’s name.”

“Eleanor!?”

“Yes, Eleanor. She’ll own a multi-million dollar company before she can walk and talk.”

Rose just gaped at him, looking completely stunned. He put his hand over hers. “Sweetheart? Are you alright?”

“I’m just… My _dad_ did that? It’s so… so _ruthless!_ ”

“Yes, your dad did that. He’s a businessman, sweetheart. He didn’t get this far without being a bit ruthless along the way. And let me tell you something, Rose, something I understand now…” He picked up her hand and kissed the fingers, looking into her eyes. “There is nothing, absolutely _nothing_ I wouldn’t do to defend my daughter. Your father is a good man, but Stockman made a huge mistake when he attacked Pete’s family.”

“Seems so,” Rose marveled. She opened her mouth to say something else, but a cry came from the lounge. “We’ll talk more later, yeah? I’m not upset, just kinda…”

“Mindfucked?”

“That’s the word.”

Ian leaned over and kissed her gently. “Don’t be. Let’s go get the baby so we can go to bed.”

He put his arm around her and they made their way into the lounge where Eleanor laid in the swing, red-faced and crying. There was something different about her cry and Ian didn’t like the sound of it. Rose didn’t either, apparently, because she rushed forward to scoop her up.

“Ian, she’s burning up.”

“What?”

“Feel her! She’s got a temperature!”

Ian put his hand on the baby and sure enough, she was hot to the touch. He swore loudly and dashed to get the thermometer. When he came back, Rose had settled into her chair and was trying to nurse. Eleanor was alternating between nursing and fussing.

“She’s hot, Ian. She’s not just warm, she’s hot.”

He pressed the thermometer to the baby’s temple and at once, the screen flashed red. 39.5. He swore again.

“Was she like this earlier?”

“No! She was fine!” he assured her, trying not to panic while he looked for his mobile to call Garrison. “Where the fuck is it?!”

“Don’t shout!” Rose snapped, and when he looked over, her eyes were wide and tears were spilling over. He could tell she was terribly afraid, and to be honest, so was he.

Ian finally found the mobile and rang Garrison’s emergency number, doing his best to be as clinical as possible and not let the panic overtake him when he told the other doctor what Eleanor’s symptoms were. His heart was in his throat, though, when Garrison told him to put Eleanor in the car and meet him at Torchwood, right away. 

Within two minutes, Ian had Rose and Eleanor both strapped in the car, both crying, and he peeled out of his driveway towards Torchwood to meet Garrison, daring any police to try to stop him for speeding on the way.


	99. Chapter 99

30 August 2012

The sun was up, not merely rising but fully situated above the horizon, by the time Ian pulled his SUV into the garage with a sigh of relief. Eleanor was blessedly asleep in her car seat and Rose was dozing beside her, having been unwilling to be as far away from their sick daughter as the front seat.

An ear infection. And fifteen hours in the Torchwood A&E, agonizing over each decision that had to be made. It all came down to one question: Should they attempt to medicate her and run the risk of potentially lethal complications or watch her suffer through the course of the illness for however long it lasted? Withholding the medications was quickly dismissed as unnecessarily cruel, even with the risks they posed, so Garrison had pored over every word of Eleanor’s medical chart, looking for anything that might even hint at an allergy to the antibiotic and pain medicine he hoped to give her.

Then, holding each other tightly but each with one hand on their daughter, Ian and Rose had watched from the other side of the hospital bassinet Eleanor was lying in as Garrison administered the lowest possible dosage of both, a full team of nurses and more medical equipment than Ian had seen in one place outside of an operating theater standing only steps away. Doing little to aid his peace of mind, included among the equipment was a crash trolley. 

Ian doubted he’d breathed in those next few minutes, his eyes glued to Eleanor’s wailing form and Rose sobbing in his arms as they waited for any sign of an adverse reaction. Only after that first window passed without incident did Rose’s sobs turn to sniffles and Ian felt himself begin to relax. The second marker, some fifteen minutes later, came when Eleanor’s panicked cries subsided, became slightly less frantic. 

Rose turned in his arms, her eyes leaving Eleanor for the first time since their arrival at Torchwood, a single relieved laugh breaking through her tears as she grabbed him and pulled him down to her, forcing him to curl his body around her. Around them, the nurses began to move, the majority of them returning to their usual stations and duties, only a few remaining to assist Garrison in the next steps.

The hours that followed blurred together in a seemingly endless cycle of lukewarm baths, feedings, and frequent check ups by Garrison. Neither Ian nor Rose had managed more than a few minutes of sleep at a time. 

He’d rang Clara as soon as he'd been reasonably sure she was awake and filled her in on the situation. She’d practically spoken over him when he’d told her that he planned to stay home for the day, insisting he do exactly that. It wasn't that he couldn't do his job - he’d worked on little to no sleep more times than he could count - but this was his Little Face, and he couldn’t fathom leaving her when she wasn’t feeling well. Maybe one day, but not now, not when everything was still so new and she was still so small.

Looking up in the rear view mirror, he watched Rose sleep as the garage door slowly rattled closed behind the SUV. She never stirred. _Right._ Unbuckling and getting out of the car, he opened rear door on the driver’s side and ducked inside. Rose’s hand was resting lightly on Eleanor’s leg and he stroked the back of it as he moved it to her own lap. Then, in a motion that had become as natural as breathing overnight, he pressed the back of his hand gently on Eleanor’s forehead. She was still warmer than he’d like, but since her fever had broken in the wee hours, they’d managed to keep her temperature at reasonable levels. She no longer felt hot enough to burn the person holding her. 

“Hey, there. Good morning, Little Face,” he whispered when she blearily opened her eyes. “I’m going to bring you inside then come back for mummy. Can you sit quietly while I do that?”

She watched him silently as he unlatched the car seat and carried her into the house. He placed the car seat on the floor in the lounge and she blinked at him when he asked her to be patient while he went back for Rose. When he got back to the car she hadn’t moved, and he carefully opened her door and leaned inside. 

“Rose. Sweetheart,” he murmured, cupping her cheek. 

The hand that had been holding Eleanor flew back towards the middle of the seat as she jolted awake.

“What -- where?”

“Shhh. It’s okay. We’re home. I’ve already brought Eleanor inside. Time to get you to bed.”

She shook her head as she started to sit up. “No. I’m fine.”

“You’re nothing of the sort. You need sleep. I insist. Now come on.”

Though he could tell she wanted to protest, exhaustion won out and Rose allowed him to help her from the car. Eleanor cooed once when they passed the lounge, but instead of being needy, it sounded suspiciously like she was simply saying _Hi, Mummy_.

“She’s okay?”

“She’s fine. Temperature’s good; I checked her when I took her out of the car. I’ll stay up with her --” Rose started to protest, so he added, “At least until you wake up and then I’ll nap, too. How about that?”

“You could lay down with me,” she suggested piteously, one foot on the bottom stair. 

“Sweetheart…”

“Please?”

His shoulders slumped. _Fuck._ He’d never been able to deny her anything, but she really needed rest.

“I’m afraid if I’m there you won’t sleep.”

She yawned widely. “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”

“Eleanor just woke up. I need to --”

“Bring her.”

“She’ll definitely keep you awake.”

“Just for a little while. I want to be close to her. To you.”

Arguing with her was getting him nowhere, and it was certainly not getting her to bed, where she needed to be, so Ian did what he always did in these situations: he caved.

“Alright. But just for a little while.”

Rose smiled wanly then leaned in to kiss him before starting up the stairs. 

“Straight to bed with you,” he called after her. “I’ll be right there.”

“Is that a promise, Dr. Docherty?” she teased over her shoulder, but her words were flat and tired.

“Later. Minx.”

Chuckling softly to herself, Rose climbed the stairs in a very plodding, deliberate way, one hand gripping the handrail. At the speed she was going, if he hurried he was likely to catch up to her before she made it to the bedroom. Ian returned to the lounge and unstrapped Eleanor from her car seat. A quick check of her nappy revealed that she would be fine for a while longer.

“Come on, Little Face,” he said as he lifted her, resting her head on his shoulder. “Mummy will feel better if we lie down with her.”

Surprisingly, Rose was already out of sight, and Ian made his way up to the bedroom. He smiled fondly at the trail of clothes that started just inside the door and lead to a Rose-sized lump under the sheets. For a moment he stood, listening carefully for the adorable construction equipment snores that had worsened over the course of her pregnancy but which were already starting to fade again. Despite hearing nothing, he hesitated to step deeper into the room or call out, even just a whisper, for fear of waking her.

He’d finally decided to back away and creep down the stairs when Rose opened her eyes and looked up at him.

“Don’t go.”

Caught, Ian approached the bed, transferring Eleanor when Rose held out her arms to take her. Stripping off his jeans, he tossed them over the back of a chair and slipped into bed. Rose’s hand moved from Eleanor’s forehead to her waist as Ian laid down, placing his own hand on Rose’s waist, Eleanor between them.

~*~O~*~

Rose awoke to a quiet house and an empty bed after a fitful couple hours of sleep and laid there, disoriented and blinking at the ceiling while her thoughts settled into their rightful places. Her breasts were full and hurting, and she didn’t hear Eleanor crying as she’d learned to expect over the last few months. Before her daughter had been born, Rose felt sure she’d have welcomed the ability to go back to sleep that the quiet afforded her. Now, though, the silence felt nearly oppressive and left her feeling unsettled. Then she remembered everything that had happened the night before.

Rolling out of bed and getting to her feet, she pulled her dressing gown over her shoulders, carefully avoiding her tender breasts. Rose looked down at the clock beside the bed as she tied the sash of her gown. It wasn’t that late, not really, she’d only missed lunch by about an hour. She felt refreshed, though, the nap had done her good.

She cautiously opened the door to the nursery only to find it empty, the pervasive silence bothering her more and more as she made her way downstairs. The lights were off in the lounge as well as the kitchen, and no notes in Ian’s scrawling handwriting rested on the countertops. She’d just started to wonder if Ian would have left the house without waking her - and worry about what would have caused him to do such a thing - when Eleanor’s voice dragged her back to the lounge. 

With the lights off, she’d missed Ian’s feet sticking out over the armrest of the couch, and she regretted not having her mobile at hand when she walked around it to see him. He was sound asleep, shirtless, Eleanor lying on his chest in just her nappy, her face inches away from his rose tattoo. He had one hand firmly on Eleanor’s back and the other was wrapped around her ankle.

Her body gave her no time to enjoy the sight, however, as she felt the change in her breasts which meant it was time to feed the baby _now_.

Ian struggled against her when she tried to lift Eleanor, determined, even in sleep, to keep his daughter safe. Rose ran her hand through his hair as she shushed him gently, and his grip on the baby loosened. She brought Eleanor over to her leather chair and made herself comfortable.

Eleanor latched on quickly and ate with gusto, as though her father had been denying her sustenance while Rose slept. She knew better, of course, but it still made her grin and she thought of teasing Ian. 

“You’re meant to be sleeping, Miss Tyler,” Ian rumbled in a low, playful voice, and   
she looked up to see him watching her. She found herself wanting to correct him, to have him call her ‘Mrs. Docherty.’ _Only eighty-six more days._

“I woke up,” she explained instead. “It got to be time for Eleanor to eat, and my body was sure to let me know.”

“You could have pumped and gone back to sleep.”

“I wanted to see you and Eleanor,” she admitted. “Sleeping while I could be spending time with you seems like a waste.”

Ian got to his feet and walked over to where she sat. He bent down, grinning, and her hand slid around the back of his neck. “I love you,” he murmured against her lips, just before he kissed her smile.

“I love you, too,” she echoed when he released the kiss. The look in Ian’s eyes told her clearly that if she hadn’t been occupied he’d have been kissing her until her socks flew off, but the baby was preventing it for the time being. She flushed, thinking of just how much she would welcome that. 

His eyes twinkled down at hers before he leaned across her a little and kissed the baby’s head. “Love you, Eleanor.”

She paid him no mind, just continued to eat. He planted one more kiss to Rose’s lips before straightening. “I’ll go get you something to drink.”

“That sounds good. Thank you.”

Rose watched him leave, appreciating the sight of his bare back and the way his jeans fit his bum, then looked down to her daughter. The baby had just latched onto her other breast and was settling into her arms when Ian came back around the corner with two mugs. 

“Made yours the way you like it… eight pounds of sugar for two tablespoons of tea.”

“Oh, ha-ha,” she said with rolled eyes and a smile, raising her free hand to take the mug from him. 

Ian handed her the tea then sat down while she took her first sip. He’d prepared exactly the way she liked, and had even put a cube of ice in the mug to help cool it so if it spilled, it wouldn’t burn the baby. 

“Mmm. Delicious. Just what I needed.” 

She took another sip before she set it down on the table beside her and turned her attention back to Eleanor.

“You gave us quite a scare, my girl,” she said as she stroked her daughter’s soft cheek.

“How is she?”

“Warm but not too bad. Did you give her another dose?”

He ran a hand through his hair and looked up at the clock on the mantle. “No. She’s due soon, though. We can give it to her when she’s finished eating.”

“I’ll give it to her. You go upstairs and get some sleep.”

Ian shook his head as he dug out the t-shirt crammed in between the cushions of the couch and tugged it over his head. “I got an hour. I’ll be fine.”

“Ian --”

“Really, sweetheart. We’re not going to be doing anything more strenuous today than taking care of her. I’ve done far more on far less sleep.”

“I don’t like it.”

“It’s not ideal, but unlike when I’m at work, I can go lie down at any time if I need to.”

“Good. I’ll hold you to that.” Rose reached for her mug but stopped mid-motion. “She’s getting hotter. I can feel it.”

Ian looked up at the clock again. “I’ll get the medicine. Is she almost done eating?”  
Rose placed her finger on her breast near the corner of Eleanor’s mouth and pushed slightly to try to break the seal. Eleanor’s brow furrowed and she shook her head as she rooted forward to get a better grip.

“No,” she said with an edge of panic.

“It’s alright. It’s not the end of the world,” Ian replied soothingly. “She needs to eat just as much as she needs the medicine. We can give her a bath when she’s done, too, that will help.”

Eleanor started squirming shortly after Ian returned to the lounge with the small prescription bottles, her fist often bumping her ear, but she refused to detach long enough for them to give it to her. Her noises grew steadily more pained as time crawled until she finally let go of Rose’s breast with a wail, and Ian stepped forward with the first dropper full of medication. 

After both the pain medicine and the antibiotic had been administered, Ian went upstairs to run a bath and Rose moved Eleanor to her shoulder to burp her, but Eleanor was limp and uncooperative.

The rest of the day passed in much the same way as they had spent the night, only this time they didn’t have a team of nurses assisting them through the process. Ian frequently consulted with Garrison while Rose stayed in touch with their family and friends. Eleanor never seemed to get as bad as she had been, making small but steady improvements. They both could have collapsed with relief.

Ian’s energy levels plummeted around seven in the evening and Rose and Eleanor accompanied him to the bedroom the same way he’d done for her. She was ready for his protests when he caught her setting his alarm for the next morning, though.

“I’ll be fine by myself with her tomorrow. You said yourself that she’s already loads better. If I need anything Mum is only a few minutes away, Garrison’s mobile is practically surgically attached to his hand, and I know you would be here before your mobile finished ringing if I called. You need to go back to work.”

“Sweetheart --”

She kissed him silent. “Other women and their babies need you, handsome. Besides that, you have the symposium this weekend.”

“Sod the symposium.”

Rose gave him a look. “Ian, we’ll be fine. I promise.”

She could tell he wanted to grumble, but Rose pulled off her shirt and got into bed beside him, effectively distracting him.

“Now go to sleep.”


	100. Chapter 100

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ten months, one hundred chapters, 350k+ words, and you guys are still here. We appreciate each and every one of you so very, very much. Thank you for continuing to support our little behemoth of a story. Please - don't stop commenting to let us know what you like and don't. <3 
> 
> We're getting close to the end of the story for the little Docherty family... Only a few more chapters to go!

31 August, 2012

Ian dashed into his study, looking around the room, muttering curse words to himself fluently. His zeppelin left in less than two hours and he had to be at the airport in forty-five minutes. He absolutely _did not have time_ for his fucking tickets to go missing. But they were, he couldn’t remember where in the hell he’d put them, and his search for them was growing increasingly desperate. 

Maybe they’d arrived in the mail and he’d opened them at his desk… It was unlikely, but better than just standing in the middle of the room like a blithering idiot, waiting for them to jump out at him. 

He crossed the room to his desk in three long strides and sat down behind it, trying to remember. They weren’t on the top of his desk and he started lifting papers and other things, trying to see if the tickets had somehow weaseled their way to the bottom of a pile. He was finding nothing, though, and growing increasingly frustrated. Finally satisfied that the tickets weren’t on top of his desk, he started pulling open drawers and rifling through them, feeling it was a lost cause even as he did it. Honestly, he hadn’t even opened these drawers in months and --

What was that? From the bottom drawer on the right-hand side he pulled out a plain photo envelope marked “Rose”. He’d never seen it before, and her name wasn’t in his handwriting - it looked to be Pete’s. Upon lifting it out of the drawer, he noted that the envelope was a little heavy, as if full, and his curiosity grew. What on earth could Rose be stashing in his desk?

Must be pictures of Eleanor, he decided. But curiosity overpowered him and he opened the envelope, pulling out the glossy photos. On top was a photo of Rose with Mickey, but she was barely recognizable. She was noticeably younger in the photo, wearing a hoodie and scads of mascara. He’d never seen Rose looking like that. She and Mickey had their arms around each other and were clearly in some pub or another, and he tried to remember any time the two of them would have gone to a pub together. It didn’t make sense. 

Confused, he flipped the picture and blinked, surprised, when he saw the next one. It was Rose again, this time dressed in a slinky dress and clearly about to go out on the town with friends. But this Rose… it just wasn’t right. Again, she looked younger by several years, almost too young to be dressed as she was. Her makeup was thick, more like war paint to go on the pull, and she was just a bit thinner than the Rose he knew. His Rose had lush curves, added to by motherhood. This Rose looked young and not-quite-finished. Almost like she was playing dress up. 

But who was with her? Ian peered at the two young women that she had her arms slung around, dressed similarly in slinky dresses and high heels. The one on the right looked incredibly familiar… he was sure he’d seen her face before somewhere...

“Ian! I found them! They were in the lounge!”

Rose’s voice snapped him to attention and he shoved the photos back into the envelope. There was a mystery here, but he didn’t have time to root it out. Henry was going to be here any moment, and he had to go. 

Resolving to put the photos out of his mind until he had more time to explore them, he put the envelope back into the bottom drawer of his desk and went to go say protracted goodbyes to the women in his life.

~*~O~*~

1 September, 2012

Ian was well beyond ready for the day to be over by the time he got back to his hotel room and unlocked the door. He tossed his suit jacket on the back of a nearby chair and then sank into it, blowing out his breath while he toed off his shoes. The Welsh Association of OB/GYNs had put him up in a very nice room, but he was too tired and lonely to appreciate it. Exhaustion lapped at the edges of his mind, although on paper the day hadn’t been too strenuous. With Rose deciding to stay home to take care of Eleanor, he’d had hours to fill. Sightseeing alone was just depressing, so he’d sat in on meetings and lectures about his craft. It had been informative, he supposed, but he’d have gladly traded that newfound knowledge for Rose’s presence beside him. 

If there had been any doubt about how pathetically in love he was with her before, this weekend had only served to blow that doubt out of the water. He felt absolutely bereft without her. He hadn’t slept well in his hotel bed the night before, even though it had only been a couple of hours since he’d seen her when he went to bed and he’d talked to her just before he went to sleep. Now, looking at his watch, he realized it had been twenty eight hours since he’d touched her, and he was going spare. They’d texted continuously all day, as usual, and he’d facetimed before dinner when he thought he couldn’t stand it another minute, but it wasn’t the same. His flight left tomorrow at five, so he was more than halfway through, but he desperately needed a top-up of his sweetheart if he was going to make it through the next day. 

Kicking off his shoes, he pulled out his phone and texted Rose. 

~Ian: _How are things?_

He’d barely had time to untie his tie before the phone rang on the bed in front of him. He grabbed for it, excited to hear her voice. 

“Hello?”

“Hey, handsome. I miss you.”

Ian dropped onto the bed, tossing the tie away haphazardly and leaning back into the pillows against the headboard, closing his eyes in contentment. “Hey, sweetheart. I miss you, too. How’s the baby?”

“She’s fine. I just put her in the cot.”

“Still no fever?”

“No fever, no unusual fussing. I think we’re out of the woods.”

“Oh, thank God. I’ve been worried sick.”

“Don’t be. She liked facetiming with you earlier.”

He grinned. “Did she now?”

“Yep.”

“Was she the only one?”

Rose scoffed through the phone. “You know better. How is the symposium?”

“Bunch of arseholes. Entirely too many of them are money-grubbing. They chose to become a doctor for the money, not from any real desire to help people. I fucking hate people like that.”

“Surely they’re not _all_ like that…?”

Ian sighed. “No, they’re not. In fact, I spent dinner talking with two young men who want to start a clinic like mine here in Cardiff.”

“See?” Rose said, and even through the phone, he could hear her beaming. “You’re so brilliant, you’re rubbing off on Welshmen.”

He snorted. “You’re daft. You and Eleanor got a round of applause, though.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. During my keynote, I made mention that everything had taken on a new meaning, now that I had a daughter and was to be married. I was surprised when they applauded.”

“I’m not. If I had been there, I’d have been applauding after every sentence.”

“I wish you _were_ here,” he said, rubbing his forehead. “Not sure how I’m going to make it through another whole day before I see you.”

“I know,” she answered, her voice soft. “I miss you, too. But you’ll be home in time for dinner tomorrow. We can do it.”

“If you say so,” he grumbled, then tugged at the collar of his shirt, freeing the top button. “Sweetheart, can I call you back in two minutes? I want to get out of this suit.”

Her voice was low and the sexiest thing he’d ever heard when she answered. “Wish I was there to help get it off.”

Ian froze, his finger on the second button of his shirt. 

“Of course,” she went on, practically purring, “If I was there, you probably wouldn’t sleep very much. Not for a while, anyway.”

“Someone’s in a mood,” he choked out, hoping he didn’t sound as affected as he felt. 

“When it comes to you, I’m always in the mood,” she promised, and his cock twitched in his pants. 

Ian swallowed hard, closing his eyes and willing himself to calm down. “You’re a fucking tease, Rose Tyler.”

“I think you know very well by now that I’m no such thing. I rarely see you in a suit, handsome. Been thinking about it all day, wishing I could be the one to undress you.”

“If you took off my clothes, I would be forced to take yours off to even up the score,” he lobbed at her.

He swore he could hear her tongue touch her teeth. “Who says I’m dressed now?”

Ian thought his heart would stop in that moment. His mind raced, trying to come up with something clever to say to her, but all he could think about was her, either naked or very nearly so. 

“Are you alright?” she asked, and her smirk was audible. 

“Fine,” he nearly squeaked, then cleared his throat. “Where are you right now?”

“I’m in our bed, on your side. Smells like you.”

“Are you - are you dressed for bed?”

She chuckled, low and dark. “I would be if you were here. As it stands, I’m more dressed for a bath.”

Ian’s cock was tenting his trousers and, unable to stare at his naked fiancee, he stared down at it blankly. Was she…?

“If I was there, I’d help you get undressed until we matched.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhm.”

Lightly, slowly, he put his hand on the buckle of his belt and started working it loose. 

“What would you do?”

“I’d get rid of that tie, for starters.”

“I’m one step ahead of you, sweetheart.”

“What did you do with it?”

His belt was opened and he took a moment to rub the tent in his trousers, easing the growing pressure a bit. “I tossed it somewhere, fuck knows where.”

“Pity. If I was getting you undressed, I’d keep it close at hand. Might come in handy.”

Ian squeezed his cock. “Never done that before,” he admitted, his brain rapidly running through scads of things he would do with a necktie and Rose. 

“First time for everything,” she teased. “Then I’d get to work on those buttons…”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah. And I’d run my mouth along every inch of skin I exposed, too.”

He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, unbuttoning his trousers. “I’m wearing a vest, sweetheart.”

“Then I’d unbutton your shirt all the way and get rid of both of them, so I could lick and suck your skin. I love tasting you.”

“Are we actually going to do this?” he interrupted, his voice a little strangled. 

“Do what?”

“You know what. What we’re doing right now.”

“I’m already touching myself, thinking about you…”

The zip of his trousers came down and within a second, Ian had his hand fisted around his cock, stroking it gently. “So am I,” he confessed. 

“Oh, I wish I was there,” Rose purred seductively. “I love to watch you touch yourself. It’s so fucking sexy.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, not entirely sure what he was agreeing to. His mind was awhirl with lust.

“Put me on speaker,” she commanded, “and take off your clothes. I want you naked, like me.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he agreed, pressing the appropriate button and tossing his phone onto the bed beside him, getting to his feet and shoving at his trousers to get them down, unbuttoning his shirt in a tearing hurry.

“Faster, Ian,” she whined. “I’m so wet…”

His eyes rolled back in his head and he stepped out of his trousers and pants, tugging off his vest. “Tell me about it,” he told her, pulling off his socks and getting back onto the bed. 

“I’ve got my fingers buried inside me, imagining it’s your cock.”

“I wouldn’t start with my cock, sweetheart,” he practically growled. “That’s for later.”

“What would you do then? Tell me.”

“Right at this moment, I’m dying to kiss you. I want to taste you.”

“Where?”

“I’d start with your mouth, and I’d kiss you until you couldn’t breathe. Then I’d work my way down your neck to your breasts.”

“I like that.”

“I know you do,” he responded, smug. “But I wouldn’t stay there long before I took my attentions lower…”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah, sweetheart. I need to taste you. My mouth is practically watering, just thinking about it.”

She sighed elaborately into the phone. “Go on.”

“I’d draw patterns all over your belly with my tongue, leaving little kisses as I went, making sure you know how beautiful you are. Because you are, Rose. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

“I’m yours,” she told him, and her voice was breathy, almost whimpering. The sound made him tighten his hand on his cock. 

“Too fucking right you are,” he growled. 

“What else would you do to me?”

“When you were begging for me - and don’t mistake, you’d be begging for me, Rose - I’d put my mouth on you, right where you want me.”

“Yes…” she moaned. 

“You taste so fucking good, Rose. I could stay down here, licking and sucking you forever. And you’d like that, wouldn’t you? You’d fucking love to ride my face for hours and hours.”

“Close… I’m close…” 

“I’d make my tongue into a point and flick it over your clit as fast as I could, making it feel good, tasting all your juices.”

“Yeah…”

He went in for the kill. “Rub your clit for me, sweetheart. Rub it hard and fast, just like I would, until you come. You know how I’d do it. I want you to come on my face… I love when you do that.”

She cried out her orgasm, making him smirk with pleasure, and he murmured soothing, erotic encouragements to her while she came until she was panting on the other line. 

“That was…”

“Yeah?” he asked, smug. 

“I’ve never made myself come that hard before,” she admitted. “Must be you.”

“Happy to help,” he answered, closing his eyes and laying his head back on the pillow. Mentally, he was satisfied - he always was when Rose was happy, but his cock absolutely _throbbed_. He squeezed it a little in a bid to calm it down. She’d likely want to get off the phone now. 

“Bet you’ll sleep well tonight,” he teased.

“Not as well as if you were here.”

“Same, sweetheart.”

Rose blew out a long breath. “Alright then. Your turn.”

He raised his eyebrow, even though she couldn’t see him. “My turn?”

“Oh, yes. You didn’t think you were going to make me come like that and not get to come yourself?”

“I --”

“Daft git,” she said indulgently, and again, he could hear her smile. “After I came, I’d pull on your ears, your hair, something. Anything to get your attention, and I’d pull you up my body so you were lying on top of me.”

Ian stroked himself a little. “Yeah?”

“Mhm. I’d kiss you, and oh God, you taste like me. It’s so erotic. I love it.”

He swallowed hard.

“I’d break the kiss and ask you if you wanted me to suck you off or if you wanted to fuck me. It’s your choice, Ian. You can do whatever you want to me.”

“I want to fuck you.”

“Good. I’m dying for your cock inside me. Next time, though, I want to taste you when you come. Promise? Can I suck you off when you get home tomorrow?”

“Oh, God,” he groaned, speeding his hand up a little. 

“Can I?” 

“Yes, fuck yes, whatever you want.”

She chuckled, low and dark. “You’re laying on top of me, but I get my hand between us and guide you to where I want you. You’re so hard, Ian… so big and so hard…”

“Yeah,” he agreed, stroking himself harder. 

“I can’t wait for you to be inside me, though, so I grab you by the bum and pull you until you’re buried in me. Oh, God, you feel so good.”

“Yeah…”

“I wrap my legs around your waist and grab your head, kissing you while you fuck me, begging you to fuck me harder and faster. But you’re a tease. You like to start out slow and build up, don’t you?”

“I do…” He ran his thumb over the tip of his cock, spreading the precome that had gathered there. Not much longer...

“I’m so wet, Ian. Can you feel how hot and tight I am around you? That’s all for you. All because you’re so fucking sexy…”

“Rose,” he choked out, using his free hand to cup his balls and massage them gently, remembering the way her hands felt around them - and her mouth. 

“Finally, _finally_ , you start to pound into me, the way I like it. And I do love it like that, Ian. You can never go too hard or too fast, you’re not going to break me. You’re fucking me so hard I can’t even speak, just whimpers every time you slam into my body.”

“Jesus fuck…”

She gave a low chuckle, making him shiver. “I love it when you lose control. I can feel your bollocks slapping against me and you’re swearing as you fuck me…”

“I’m close, sweetheart,” he informed her, rolling his bollocks in his hand and pumping his cock hard. “Gonna come for you.”

“Come for me, Ian. Jerk your cock and imagine it’s me. I want you to come for me… fill me up with it. Oh, God, I want to feel you --”

He gave a strangled cry and it was all he was capable of. His come splattered all over his abdomen in pearly ropes, but he was oblivious to it, lost in the sensation of pure light enveloping him, setting him ablaze. It only lasted for a few seconds before he was back to earth, panting heavily, come oozing all over his fisted cock and cooling on his belly. 

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, spent.

“Did you come?”

“Fuck yes, I came so hard I damn near blacked out,” he told her. “You’re incredible.”

She answered with a soft, “I love you.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart. So much.” Then he blew out his cheeks, trying to regulate his heart rate and breathing. 

“You alright there?” she asked, sounding smug. 

“I just made a fucking mess,” he confessed, letting go of his cock and looking down beside the bed for something to clean himself with, eventually settling on his vest. “Think I need a shower.”

“Too bad I’m not there. I’d help.”

“I think you’ve done enough, sweetheart. If I come anymore right now, they’ll have to fucking hospitalize me for dehydration.”

Rose giggled and he finished cleaning himself up as best he could, then discarded his vest again. He grabbed up the phone and took it off speaker. “I miss you so much, Rose.”

“I miss you, too. But you’ll be home tomorrow.”

“Wish I was home now.”

“I know. I wish you were, too.”

He sighed, as content as was possible in the moment. “Things have been okay there?” 

“Things have been fine. Mickey and Martha came over for a bit today, just to see the baby. It was good to spend some time with them.”

Unbidden, the memory of Rose in the photograph with Mickey floated to the forefront of his mind, and he started to ask her about it. His curiosity was getting to him and the pictures had flitted into his mind multiple times since he’d found them, but he didn’t get a chance to ask. 

“Eleanor’s going to be thrilled that you’re home.”

“You think?”

Rose yawned. “I know so.”

“Go to sleep, sweetheart. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“I don’t want to get off the phone.”

“I don’t either, but I need to shower. You made me make a fucking mess,” he teased.

She giggled tiredly. “I’ll gladly take the blame for making you come so hard. Anytime.”

Ian chuckled, too, sitting up on the side of the bed. “Go. Sleep. I’ll ring you tomorrow.”

“Oh alright. Remember what you promised, though.”

“What’s that?”

She lowered her voice seductively. “I get to suck you off when you come home.”

“Sweetheart, there’s no way I’m talking you out of that.”

Rose giggled. “Goodnight, Ian. I love you.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart. Goodnight.”

He rang off and sorted through his open suitcase to find clean boxers, then padded to the shower, thinking of his sweetheart and counting the hours until he went home to her.


	101. Chapter 101

4 September, 2012

“Your break.”

Ian gave a nod, then went to the end of Pete’s billiards table, lined up, and shot, scattering solid and striped balls all over the felt. Two of them dropped and Ian held his breath while the eight ball rolled towards the corner pocket, but stopped a few inches shy of dropping. 

“Damn. So close.” He grinned at his best mate, his mood not at all diminished by the ball still on the table.

“Thank God. Last time you got eight on the break, you were insufferable for weeks.”

He snorted. “Just because you don’t have the skill…”

“Ha, ha. Wisearse.”

Ian just laughed and bent back down to take aim at the thirteen. He sank it, stood up, and chalked his cue while he rounded the table. 

“How was Cardiff?” Pete asked.

“Fine, I suppose. I was glad to get home.”

“I bet so. Rose missed you terribly.”

He shot at the ten and only grazed it. “Couldn’t possibly have missed me anywhere near as much as I missed her and the baby. Although Eleanor cried any time I sat her down Sunday night, after I got home. Had to eat dinner with her on my lap.”

“And I’m sure that was a terrible hardship,” Pete joked, going to line up his own shot. 

Ian just smirked. It had been a little tricky, but he’d been loathe to let go of her, himself. He’d cuddled and played with her until bedtime, then he’d put her in her cot and taken his beloved to bed.

“We made it work,” he said, shaking himself from thinking about his private time with Rose. 

“How is Eleanor, by the way? No sign of relapse or anything?”

“No. Completely symptom-free. You’d never know she’d been sick.”

“Good. Glad to hear it. And it looks like you and Garrison managed to not come to blows.”

Ian nodded. “He’s competent and doesn’t seem to view Eleanor as just a fucking science experiment. As long as that continues we won’t have a problem.” Looking to change the subject, he said, “Say, you have an anniversary coming up, don’t you?”

“I do,” Pete said proudly. “It’ll be one year on the twenty-fourth.”

Ian knew that, of course. It was also the anniversary of the day he’d met his sweetheart and his entire life had become a love story. 

“How are you planning to celebrate?”

“Jacks wanted to have a party, but I talked her into letting me take her out of town for two weeks, instead. We’re going to Greece.”

“Never been there,” Ian admitted. 

“It’s lovely. I’ve rented an ultra-private villa on one of the islands of Santorini.”

“I’m sure she’ll love it.”

“Here’s hoping she does. What about you?”

“Me?”

“Been meaning to ask you where you intend to take my daughter for her honeymoon. You’ll have use of my zeppelin, of course.”

Ian smirked. “Are you sure you want us to use your zeppelin again? Particularly for a honeymoon?”

Pete gave him a sour look. “Perhaps you’re right…”

Ian chuckled and clapped his best friend’s shoulder. “No worries. It’s not like you don’t have a fucking fleet of zeppelins. And to answer your question, I’m planning on taking her to Fiji. We’ll play in the surf and sip drinks with little umbrellas. She’ll wear something ridiculously skimpy --”

“On second thought, I don’t think I need to hear anymore about your plans for your honeymoon,” Pete said with a hand up. “That’s quite enough.”

Ian laughed, then bent to line up his shot. 

Pete shifted a little in Ian’s peripheral vision, then spoke. “Speaking of anniversaries…”

The eleven dropped into the side pocket and Ian straightened. “Yeah?”

“How is Rose lately?”

Ian gave him an odd look. “Fine. Why wouldn’t she be?”

Pete looked uncomfortable. “I was just wondering.”

“No, you weren’t. Something made you ask. What’s on your mind?”

“Honestly, if Rose hasn’t mentioned it, it’s probably not worth mentioning.”

“Mention it anyway,” Ian demanded, suddenly wary of what he was about to hear.

Pete sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “This Thursday is the anniversary of the day Rose fell through to this world. She’s been here a year now. I just wondered if she’d said anything about it.”

“No,” Ian told him, definitely uneasy now. “She hasn’t said anything about it.”

“Then I’m sure she’s fine,” Pete said, sounding falsely cheerful. 

Suddenly, Ian wasn’t so sure. “Should I say something? Do something?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Anything.”

“I wouldn’t. Seriously - if she hasn’t mentioned it, then it’s probably just fine.”

“Or,” Ian mused, “she hasn’t said anything because she doesn’t want to upset me.”

Pete shrugged. “Could be, but she hasn’t mentioned it to Jackie or me, either. Honestly, Ian, it probably isn’t at the forefront of her mind.”

“Has Jackie talked about it?”

“No, not really. They’re both happy here, Ian. Just leave it alone. I’m sorry I said anything.”

Ian was, too. This was definitely one of those things he’d rather not think about, but on the other hand, it could be a hard day for Rose and forewarned was forearmed. 

Regardless, his mood was dimmed for the rest of the evening as he mentally reviewed every moment he’d spent with Rose since he’d returned from Cardiff, wondering if he’d missed a sign of her being upset or sad.

~*~O~*~

14 September, 2012

Ian had spent the day of the anniversary on pins and needles, remembering all too clearly how upset she’d been when they first met and how hard he’d had to work to draw her out.

He’d hated having to be at work, because it meant that she was home alone with Eleanor and her thoughts, but he’d stopped at the grocer’s on the way home to pick up a few things, including a huge bouquet of flowers, and insisted Rose relax while he cooked dinner.

“I’m getting better at cooking,” she’d laughingly insisted as she put the vase of flowers on the table while he sorted the rest of the groceries.

“Yes, you are. But I wanted to do something nice for you.”

“Can I do something nice for you later?”

Her voice had dropped suggestively, and Ian had felt his whole body respond. He’d looked over his shoulder at her and seen her tongue caught mischievously between her teeth. “If you insist. Minx.”

She’d giggled, kissed him, then gone to the lounge to get Eleanor, returning to sit at the bar while he cooked.

Dinner had been a success and afterward they’d sat in the lounge for a while before Eleanor had gotten fussy and Rose had put her down for the night. Then Rose had returned to the lounge and kept her promise, right there on her knees in front of the couch, making him shout so loudly he was grateful they weren’t upstairs next door to the nursery. When he’d finally regained some higher brain power, he’d dragged her upstairs and shown her exactly how happy he was to have her in his life.

He’d gone to sleep much more at ease, happy to have cleared that hurdle.

They’d been so busy with all of the rest of the wedding planning that they’d never finalized the guest list, and with only a little more than two months remaining until the wedding date, Jackie was starting to get anxious about sending out the invitations. She’d insisted Rose spend the morning with her to get it done. Since Pete and Jackie were leaving in the middle of next week for their anniversary trip and he and Rose were scheduled to spend the weekend in Glasgow, the only morning they’d both had available was today. 

Rose had texted him shortly after lunch to tell him that Jackie was being… well, _Jackie_ , and she was going to be late coming home, but not late enough to impact their trip. 

He laughed when he realized he’d still managed to get home before her.

Alone in the house with nothing to do, since they’d both packed the night before, Ian picked up his guitar and strummed through a few melodies. His mind started to wander. It was a vastly different day than when he’d been packing to leave for the symposium. This time, their biggest concern was making it to Auntie’s in time for dinner. The zep would wait for them if they…

Lifting his head, Ian looked at his desk, his hand turning clammy against the neck of the guitar. He stood and meticulously returned the guitar to its stand, then walked over and sat in his chair. He pulled open the drawer and looked in, praying his memory was faulty, but the envelope was still there.

She’d looked so young, younger than he had ever seen her. It didn’t make sense. And then there was Mickey and the girls she’d been with. She didn’t -- 

_Shareen Baker_.

He tore open the envelope and quickly flipped past the first picture. Though she looked far younger and less worn, it _was_ Mrs. Baker standing there with her arm around Rose, who stood between her and another girl, the three of them wearing broad smiles. Rose had never explained to him why she’d been so upset after seeing Mrs. Baker that day at the community center. He’d guessed that she’d seen someone from her old universe, and now he had the evidence to prove it.

The pictures fell from his loose hand and landed on the desk. Blood pumping loudly in his ears, Ian reached out with a trembling hand and turned to the next picture.

And beheld his first alien landscape. There was a man in the photo, yes, wearing a leather jacket and smiling in a way that left no doubt in Ian’s mind he was absolutely smitten with the woman taking the picture. But it was the sight of two suns setting in the background that really caught his attention, confirming his theory about the origin of the pictures.

The next picture was Rose, sitting on a busted bench in a cavern-like room, nestled under the arm of a frankly gorgeous dark-haired bloke. Though they both were clearly exhausted, there was an obvious lack of physical boundaries between them. Her second Doctor? The one who had --

Ian bumped his leg on the corner of his desk as he rounded it too quickly on his way to the credenza and the several bottles of alcohol he kept there. He splashed a little onto his hand in his hurry to get the liquid into a glass and, subsequently, his mouth. He didn’t have the courage to go back to the pictures until he’d filled and emptied the glass a second time.

He put the bottle and tumbler down next to the pictures and fell into his chair again. The next picture was Rose, dressed to the nines in what looked like an alien ball gown, the man from before with the leather jacket and the smitten smile standing beside her with his arm wrapped around her waist.

He took a drink.

Another bloke, this one brown-haired with sideburns, the two of them lying on the ground and smiling up at the camera. No. Whoever the other two men were, with their smitten grins and arms around Rose, this was the Doctor. The one who’d fathered Eleanor. The one Rose was in love with. It was written all over their faces.

When he refilled his glass a bit splashed on the photo. The damage it did to the glossy surface barely registered. 

Ian lost count of how many pictures he looked at. It didn’t matter. The rest of them were all the same: Rose and the brown-haired Doctor running around hand-in-hand, making the whole _fucking_ universe a better place. How could he ever compare to that? 

She’d had everything in that other universe and it was only because of an accident that she’d ended up here, with him. And what was he but an old man bound to one planet and one time? What could he offer her? How could he possibly be enough for someone who had experienced all of that?

And then, after some photos of what looked to be a space station, he saw the shift. Their gazes suggested that longing had become desire and their touches were now caresses. Ian saw the same loving smiles and teasing grins that had been turned toward him directed at another man.

How long were those smiles and grins going to be his? _This_ universe had dangled his dream life in front of his nose, but he knew it couldn’t last. It was a mirage, a fantasy. The Doctor would never let someone as amazing as Rose slip away from him so easily. It had only been a year, surely breaking into another universe was a complicated task. How long would it be before there was a knock at the door and this brown-haired alien was on the other side? A day? A month? Would he come running up the aisle at their wedding screaming ‘ _I object!_ ’? Or would it be years from now when Ian was comfortable and settled? Would there be more than one child journeying with Rose to the other universe?

He’d just turned to a picture of the two of them snuggled under a pink blanket - _the_ pink blanket, apparently, the one that was so much better than anything a mere human could purchase at any Earth store - when he heard her key in the lock. Standing up, he picked up the pictures and the bottle of scotch and made his way to the kitchen.

“Ian!” she called. “I’m home! Sorry Mum took so long. You know how she is. Henry says he’s going to grab a bite to eat and put some petrol in the car then he’ll be back to pick us up. Ready to go?” Rose was bent over Eleanor’s car seat, unlatching the straps. She looked up and caught sight of him standing in the archway and she straightened, her demeanor immediately changing. “What’s wrong?” 

"Have you seen the Doctor?"

"Not since my six week checkup..."

"Not Ross. I mean the Doctor."

Rose froze. "Why would you ask me that?"

Ian threw the pictures on the table and they spread out like a fan, Rose smiling up from many of them. Distantly, he registered Eleanor starting to fuss.

"Because these shouldn't exist if you haven't seen him.”


	102. Chapter 102

14 September, 2012 (cont)

Rose looked down at the pictures, confused at first, with dread washing all over her. She’d forgotten about them, just completely forgotten that they existed, so used to pushing away the memories, so wrapped up in having a new baby and planning a wedding… But now here they were, Ian knew about them, and it seemed he was pissed. 

Glancing at the half-empty scotch bottle in his other hand, it seemed he was pissed in more ways than one. Rose tensed. She didn’t fear him at all, but she’d never seen him drunk before. Not really. 

“Ian --”

“Is he back?”

“No. I told you he wasn’t coming back.”

“Then how do you have these?”

“He regenerated again, and when he did, there was another power surge. My old mobile got enough of a charge for Dad to get the pictures off, and Mum brought them to me. She figured I might like to see them.”

“How do you know he regenerated?”

“I just do.”

“So you haven’t seen him?”

Rose shook her head. “No. Not since Norway.”

Ian curled his lip. “I’m sure that must be utterly heartbreaking for you,” he snarled. “I’m terribly sorry.”

“What the hell has gotten into you? Besides half a bottle of liquor.”

“You tell me, Rose! I just found fucking photos of my wife staring all moon-eyed at another man. More than one other man, I might add. Apparently there were three men - one you never fucking told me about.”

“What?” she demanded, genuinely confused.

“There’s Mickey in some photos with you, then there are three other men.”

She looked down at the photos fanned across the table and spotted a familiar rakish grin. Realization dawned. “You’re speaking of Jack.”

“Jack,” Ian laughed. “You traveled with two Doctors and ‘Jack’. That’s fucking lovely. Are there any more men who were along for the ride that you didn’t happen to get photographs with?”

Rose stiffened. “Are you calling me a slag?”

Ian didn’t answer, just knocked back a swallow of brown liquid. “Tell me, Rose. What else are you hiding?”

“I’m not hiding anything!”

He ignored her. “You hid these photos from me, afraid I’d see them. What else have you hidden from me?”

Tears spilled over onto Rose’s cheeks and she trembled with anger. Shouting at him would solve nothing, however, and upset the baby further, so she gritted her teeth and modulated her voice as best she could. “Nothing, Ian, and I never meant to hide these photos. I just forgot about them.”

“Does he know about Eleanor?”

“How the hell would he know? He’s in _another universe_!”

“Right. Which is the only reason you’re here with me. If he was here, you’d be with _him_.”

“No, I wouldn’t!”

Ian raised a brow. “You’re not still in love with an alien?”

“No!”

He took another long drink, then smacked his lips. “Seems you are. That’s the only reason I can think of why you would hide these from me.”

“I didn’t hide anything from you!” Rose shouted, losing her temper. “But if I _had_ , it would have been because you’re too emotionally stunted to handle the fact that I was in a relationship before you!”

Ian gave a sardonic laugh. “Of course. This is all my fault. That’s fine, that’s fucking dandy. You hide evidence of another man, but we’ll just blame me for everything.”

“You don’t trust me,” Rose accused, angry tears flowing freely. “I’ve given you my whole life and you don’t trust me.”

“ _Why should I_?” he demanded. “You’re pining away for a man who is probably pining away for you, too. God knows I would be.”

She softened a little at his wounded tone and stepped forward. “Ian --”

He flinched, stepping backwards, then went to the table and pulled out a picture - one of her first Doctor and herself. “Is this the Doctor, or is this Jack? I’m assuming it’s the Doctor since you’re looking at him as if he hung the moon - hell, he might have done, for all I fucking know.”

“That’s the Doctor. My first Doctor. There was never anything between us.”

“You’re a liar. Look at the way he looks at you, Rose! Absolutely head over heels in love. And here, in this one, with his arm around you. Awfully fucking familiar for just a fucking friend. You may not have been shagging, but there was something there. Who’s Jack? Were you shagging him?”

Angry and ignoring what he’d said, she stepped over to the table and picked up a photo of herself and Jack. “This is Captain Jack Harkness. He was a time agent and traveled with the Doctor and me for a while. He was my _friend_ , nothing more.”

“‘ _Captain_ ’,” Ian laughed without an inch of mirth. “Of course he would be a captain.”

“You’re one to talk,” Rose sneered, ignoring her tears. “You, with all the women you’ve dated. Do you even know how many women there were, Ian? You probably lost count!”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Like hell it doesn’t matter! You don’t get to trot out my past in front of me and accuse me of running around on you and _your_ past be off-limits!”

“No, I mean _it doesn’t fucking matter!_

“Why not?”

“Because they weren’t you! They didn’t matter! But you, Rose, you can’t tell me that none of those men mattered. You just fucking can’t.”

"That doesn't mean I'd waltz off with any of them. Jack died. Jimmy’s dead, too, at least in this universe - not that I’d give him the time of day in either - and the Doctor’s in another universe, but Mickey's _right here_. Do you think I'm secretly pining for him?"

He just stared at her, his eyes bleary and wounded, and she did her best not to break down and throw herself into his arms. After a moment, he pulled a photo of her brown-eyed Doctor from the pile. “So your first Doctor and Mickey and Jack were all just friends. That means this must be the lucky winner,” he sneered. “The man who owns your heart, the man who fathered your daughter.”

“ _You_ own my heart, you idiot!” she shouted. “ _You_ are Eleanor’s father! I’m going to marry _you!_ ”

He shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. You see, I married a woman one time who didn’t love me. It went badly. I won’t be making the same mistake again.”

Rose gasped, covering her mouth in shock. “You don’t mean that.”

“Mean what?”

“Any of it.”

“Yes, I do. I’m not going to fuck up again by marrying a woman who doesn’t love me.”

It felt like he’d kicked her in the gut, and she covered her abdomen with her arms protectively. “ _You don’t mean that_!”

Ian nodded stubbornly. “I married Jenn thinking I could make her love me, but all she wanted was my money and the prestige that came with being a doctor’s wife. You - well, I don’t know why the fuck you’re with me --”

“Because I love you, you prat!”

“-- But the result is still the same. I won’t marry you and spend the rest of my life trying to make you love me the way I love you. I can’t fucking do that. The wedding is off.”

The doorbell rang, startling her and clearing her mind a little. Eleanor fussed in the foyer, left alone while her parents argued, and that stiffened Rose’s newfound resolve. She straightened her shoulders and made her voice hard. “You’re drunk,” she accused him in a cold tone. “You’re drunk and babbling. You’ve no idea what you’re talking about, but I don’t have time to set you straight. I have to go.”

She made to brush by him and he caught her arm. “Where are you going?”

Rose jerked it free. “Away from _you_. Ring me when you pull your head out of your arse.” With that, she scooped up Eleanor, marched to the front of the house, picked up her overnight bag, and walked out the door, leaving him behind.

~*~O~*~

Oblivion. That’s what Ian was after, but the empty scotch bottle hadn’t chased away the howling in his mind. He stared at it accusingly, wanting to know why it had failed him, but decided he’d probably be better served just to find another bottle. Maybe he could get lost in the bottom of that one. 

He stumbled into his study, going back to the already-open credenza and taking out another bottle. With unsteady hands, he opened it, then didn’t bother with the tumbler before he brought it to his lips and drank greedily. Right. Maybe that would help. As an afterthought, he grabbed the tumbler and went back to the kitchen so he could sit at the table and stare some more at the photos that had ruined his life. 

The glass was filled and emptied three more times while Ian pored over the photos, looking for clues. It wasn’t a matter of what the Doctor had that he didn’t - the man in the photos he held was younger, a fucking pretty boy, and clearly held Rose’s heart in his almost-magical hands. He could give her entire universes as her plaything. Ian could only give her his heart. 

He poured another glass then put his head down to cry. 

Some time later, Ian lifted his head at the sound of his mobile ringing. He unclenched his hand from around a half-full tumbler and fumbled to pull the annoyingly loud device out of his pocket.

“What?” he barked when he pressed the talk button without looking at the screen. Not that he could have seen it clearly, anyway.

"Hey, bampot, your zep was supposed to land half an hour ago."

“Fuck. I forgot.”

“You forgot? We’ve been talking about this trip for weeks.”

“Yeah, I should have called. We’re not coming. The --” There was no easy way to say it, so he might as well just get it out. “Look, Fergus, the wedding’s off.”

“ _WHAT_?”

“You heard me. I told Rose I wouldn’t marry her.”

“Are you drunk?”

He remembered the tumbler and knocked back a large swallow. “Little bit.”

“Fuck. I’m on my way.”

“No, don’t --” he started, but the line went dead in his hand. 

Ian tried to put the mobile back into his pocket, but he missed and it fell to the floor instead. The world spun around him when he started to lean over to pick it up so he decided it could wait. 

Lifting the bottle to refill his glass, he looked between the two then brought the bottle to his lips instead.

~*~O~*~

Pete let himself into Ian’s house just before midnight. He was of half a mind to go storming around to find Ian and knock some sense into him, but he forced himself to slow down and listen for a clue as to what he was walking into. He’d barely been able to hold Jackie back from marching over here when Rose had arrived at the mansion with Eleanor earlier that afternoon, inconsolable. Based on what Rose had eventually told him, he didn’t have high hopes for what he’d find, but he listened all the same.

Silence.

He stepped farther in.

Rose’s pictures were strewn across the kitchen table, a couple of empty liquor bottles beside them. He could tell which pictures had haunted his best friend most, judging by the fingerprints and evidence of splashed liquid on them. As angry as Pete was, he couldn’t help a pang of sympathy for Ian. 

Then the other man rounded the corner holding a bottle of wine in one hand and an open bottle of scotch in the other. More than half of the alcohol was gone from the open bottle.

“Ringo!” he shouted, falsely cheery and slurred. “Here to watch me crash and burn?”

“I’m here to find out what the hell happened.”

“The wedding’s fucking off. Rose doesn’t love me. That’s what happened. And you know what? I’m fine.” He turned up the bottle of wine, then gave it a puzzled look when nothing came out because it was still stoppered. “The fuck?”

“You’re drunk,” Pete spat, angry for an entirely different reason, and strode forward to take the bottles out of his friend’s hand. The wine bottle - stoppered and useless - came easy. Ian clung a little to the open bottle of hard liquor. 

“What the fuck?”

"You should be thanking me,” Pete said, putting the bottles on the counter and out of Ian’s immediate grasp, then shepherding Ian into the lounge and making him sit.

"Why the fuck would I thank you?"

"Because it's me coming over here and not my wife. She's ready to kill you."

Ian’s anger bled into sorrow. "I wish she would." Then, like a switch, the anger was back again. “It’s all the fucking Doctor’s fault.”

“You’ve got that right, mate,” Pete muttered.

“If it weren’t for him --” He started to sit up, but seemed to decide it wasn’t worth the effort. “If it weren’t for him --”

“You’d have nothing. Hate him all you want, Ian, but if it weren’t for him you wouldn’t have Rose or Eleanor.”

Ian lifted his empty hands and gestured around him. “Look around, mate. I _don’t_ have m’wife or daughter, and it’s all because of the fucking Doctor.”

“Yeah, well, I’m sure we’ll rehash this once you’re sober.”

Pete jumped up at the sound of the door opening. Rose didn’t drive, Henry had been dismissed for the evening, and he couldn’t imagine Jackie leaving Rose alone at the mansion. He stepped into the hallway to see a familiar head of red hair.

“Graham!”

“Ringo!” Graham stepped forward with a huge smile and his hand extended. “How the feck are you?”

“I’m good. What are you doing here?”

“Ian said the wedding’s off.”

“Yeah, well.” He gestured into the lounge.

“The fuck are you doing here?” Ian slurred from the couch.

“You sounded like you needed me. Here I am.”

“I need m’ _wife_.”

“How bad is it?” Graham asked, his voice pitched low so Ian couldn’t hear.

“Pretty bad. He’s been through at least two bottles of liquor, maybe more.”

Graham stepped around him and went towards Ian, his stride confident. “What happened, bampot?”

“Left me!” Ian exclaimed with a broad gesture. “Rose left me, and took m’daughter. So I decided to get drunk and stay that way ‘til I die. Hopefully fucking soon.”

“What did you do that made her leave you?” Graham asked carefully. 

“Told her I knew she didn’t love me. And she doesn’t,” he pointed at his cousin as if to ward off the contradiction, narrowing and trying to focus his red, bleary eyes. “She doesn’t, so don’t try and tell me she does. Lied, she did. All this time, a lie. She still loves that ruddy fucking alien who left her --”

“Alien?”

Pete’s heart jumped in his throat and he stepped forward to catch Graham’s attention. “Rose’s ex was from the Territories.”

“No, he wasn’t, he was from _space!_ ” Ian shouted, getting to his feet unsteadily. Graham didn’t waste a second before he pushed Ian back down onto the couch. “He was from space and flew her all over the universe… How could I ever compare?”

“Bloody hell, he’s delusional,” Graham muttered. “What set all this off?”

Pete’s mind raced and he settled on a (mostly) honest reason. “Rose’s old phone fell in water and she lost everything on it. One of my techs managed to get it working and I printed off all the photos she had on there. There were pictures of her ex.”

“Fucking pretty boy, too, at least the second one was. That’s the one that got her up the duff and left her here. How could she still love him? He left her. I’d never leave her.” 

“And yet you called off your wedding to her,” Graham remarked, dry. 

Ian’s voice turned plaintive and he looked at his cousin with eyes that were suspiciously wet. “Why can’t she love me, Fergus? I love her so much…”

“I know you do, ye twat.”

“It doesn’t make any difference. She’s gone, and she’ll never come back.”

“I don’t know that I believe that, bampot. It’s going to be alright.” Then he turned to Pete. “Salvaging a dead mobile to save some pictures - that’s pretty impressive for someone who bottles _soda_ for a living.”

“I know people.”

“I take it she didn’t tell him she had these photos and he found them?”

“Seems so.”

“She didn’t tell me because she still loves him!”

“Alright, nimnole,” Graham said, getting to his feet and hauling Ian up, too. “To bed with you. We’ll talk in the morning.”

Ian swatted at him. “I don’t need help and I don’t need sleep. I need m’wife.”

“She’s not coming back tonight,” Pete informed him, going to help Graham get him upright. “She’s staying with Jackie.”

“I love her, you know,” Ian explained, and now there _were_ tears falling down his cheeks. “I love her, but she doesn’t love me. How could she ever love me?”

“She sure wouldn’t love seeing you like this,” Graham informed him, “so you’re going to sleep it off and we’ll see how things look in the morning. Pete, I’ve got him from here. Are you going to stay?”

Pete nodded. “Yeah. If I went home and told Rose I left him in this kind of shape, she’d never forgive me.”

“She’s never gonna forgive me, either,” Ian whined. Both men ignored him. 

“We’ll talk in the morning, then,” Graham said with a nod, starting up the stairs with Ian. Pete watched them go, listening to Ian complain and Graham soothe him. When they were gone, he looked around the downstairs with his hands on his hips. Ian had destroyed the house, and if Rose were to decide to come back in the morning, she wouldn’t want to see this. It wasn’t fit to bring a baby in. So he fired off a text to his wife to check on Rose and set out about cleaning up the wreckage left by his best friend. He started by gathering up the pictures that had been taken in another universe, glad that Graham hadn’t seen them.


	103. Chapter 103

15 September, 2012

Pete sat up quickly in bed, looking around to get his bearings. In a flash, the night before came rushing back to him. He listened for Ian but heard nothing. Rubbing his eyes and deciding he probably needed to check on his idiot best friend, he threw his legs over the side of the bed and got to his feet. 

After he used the loo, he walked carefully down the corridor to Ian and Rose’s bedroom. Ian was sprawled across the large bed, snoring loudly, hugging a pillow close to his body, wearing only his pants and one sock.

A quiet voice came from the chairs by the window. “Ah, there you are.” Graham marked a page then closed the book he’d had open. He got to his feet and came towards Pete, smiling a bit. “Wondered when I’d see you. Coffee?”

“Might as well,” Pete agreed. 

“Go on down to the kitchen. I’m right behind you.”

Ian had not stirred while the two men talked around him and Pete was torn between protectiveness and absolute fury with his best mate. There was a part of him that wanted to shout and bang pans to make Ian as miserable as possible, but he just nodded and turned to leave, leaving Graham to do whatever he had in mind. 

He was digging around the kitchen looking for the coffee when he heard Graham coming down the back stairs. Graham set a white box with an antenna on the counter and went straight to the cabinet, knowing exactly where to go, opening the doors and reaching in. The sounds of Ian snoring came through the small speaker.

“Columbian or Sumatra?” he asked. “I’m saving the espresso for Ian. He’ll need it.”

“Columbian, please. What’s that?” Pete asked, pointing to the device on the counter.

Graham looked over his shoulder, then turned back to the cabinet. “Baby monitor. I set it up beside his bed so we can hear him when he starts to wake.”

“Good thinking. Were you up all night?”

“Aye. Was afraid the glaikit bastard would choke on something if someone didn’t watch him. Or worse, try to drive over to yours to get to Rose.”

“I hid his keys,” Pete told him, “last night. His mobile, too. They’re in the vase on the mantel in the lounge.”

Graham pressed the sequence of buttons to start the coffee brewing, and the heavenly smell filled the kitchen. “Good to know. But I don’t plan on staying here long. I’m going to talk to Rose.”

“You don’t need to do that. She’s fine, she’s with her mother.”

“I’m sure she’s anything other than fine,” Graham answered, one corner of his mouth turned up. “But he’s in no shape to talk to her and someone has to.”

“She may not want to see you,” Pete pointed out.

“She may not,” Graham agreed, “but I’m willing to put myself out there, anyway. I suspect that Ian isn’t going to be able to smooth this over by himself, the dumb twat.”

As if he’d heard himself being called a dumb twat, Ian groaned through the monitor. He sounded pained. Graham froze as soon as he heard the sound, listening intently, ready to spring into action, but shortly after the groan came the sound of Ian snoring again. Graham relaxed and went back to making coffee, muttering about what a stupid bastard Ian was. Pete was inclined to agree.

“You don’t want to stay here and take care of him when he wakes?”

Graham shook his head and offered Pete a steaming mug. “Nah. I think it’s best if I talk to Rose. She’ll be more likely to listen to me, and besides that, I’m quite sure that my cousin will be best served under your hands.”

“Not likely,” Pete snorted. “I’m bloody livid with him.”

Graham’s eyes twinkled. “Good. He deserves that.”

Pete met his small, evil grin with one of his own and found himself suddenly in favor of Graham going and him staying. 

“What happened?” Graham asked. 

“I’m not entirely sure. Jackie brought the pictures to Rose a couple of months ago. Rose said she never gave them a second thought after she looked at them that day, she just shoved them in a drawer and went on about her life. Ian found them yesterday and looked through them. It looks like once he figured out what they were, he started drinking. When Rose found him, he was slurring and not himself - much like what we saw, I imagine. Going on about how she didn’t love him, could never love him.”

“Fecking idiot,” Graham muttered.

“He told Rose that he wasn’t going to make the same mistake he’d made before and marry someone who didn’t love him.” 

Graham looked horrified. “He didn’t honestly compare her to that bitch.”

Pete nodded. “He sure did. I could beat his arse into the ground just for that.”

“And I’d help hold him still to take the beating. Is Rose okay?”

“She was distraught last night. Jackie and I did our best to calm her down, but it wasn’t easy. When I left to come over here, she was still crying with her head in her mother’s lap.”

“I could kill the dumb bastard,” Graham swore. “Rose is the best thing that ever happened to him.”

“I know. And Rose has never been happier. She loves him, too.”

Graham sighed, dragging his hand down his face. “Alright. So we have to sober Ian up and get the two of them to talk. Lock ‘em in a room if we have to.”

“I don’t know if Rose will be willing to talk to him just yet.”

“That’s why I’m going over there.”

Pete took another swallow of his coffee. “When’s the last time you saw him this drunk?” 

“Never, and I’ve seen him in some pretty sorry states. But he’s never been as vulnerable as Rose makes him. I mean, hell, he wasn’t even _close_ to this bad after Jenn kicked him out.”

“No, he wasn’t,” Pete agreed, remembering all too clearly that time twenty years before. “So what do we do? How are you planning on smoothing things with Rose?”

“I don’t know,” Graham admitted. “Hadn’t gotten that far yet. I’m sure I’ll have some flash of brilliance or another. But we have to do something.” He pondered his coffee for a moment. “I think losing her might actually kill him, Ringo. I’m certain he’d never recover from it.”

“You’re right. And Rose would never be okay again, either.”

“I’m not going to let him throw away the best thing that ever happened to him.”

Pete shook his head. “No. And I’m not willing to watch Rose suffer, either.”

“Then it’s decided,” Graham said. “I’ll go soften Rose while you stay here and sober him up. We’ll get these two to pull their heads out of their arses if it’s the last thing we do.”

“Agreed.” Pete took Graham’s offered hand and shook it, already making plans for his best friend.

~*~O~*~

Graham had been gone a little less than an hour when Pete finally heard Ian stirring around over the baby monitor. 

“Fucking… what the fuck,” Ian muttered, then there was the sound of scuffling followed very shortly by retching noises a short distance away. 

Pete slowly folded the newspaper on the table and got to his feet. He went to the counter, pulled down a glass and filled it with water, grabbed two pain relief tablets, then went upstairs. 

Ian was a pitiful sight, slumped over the toilet with his head hanging in the bowl. He retched powerfully, his whole body involved in the process, and Pete just sat the glass of water down on the sink and leaned in the doorway, watching. 

At length, Ian collapsed against the wall behind him, pale, sweaty, and slightly green, breathing heavily. Sitting up didn’t agree with him, it seemed, and he sank to the floor, curled in a loose ball. 

“Feeling alright?” Pete asked in a loud, cheerful voice.

“Bloody hell, would you fucking keep it down? I’m dying here.”

“You’re not dying. Death would be too good for you right now.”

“What happened?” Ian croaked. 

“You got drunk.”

“I’m naked,” he observed.

“Not quite, thank God. Nice tattoo, by the way.”

Ian shuddered on the floor, his head bouncing a little against the tile, and Pete thought for a second about getting him a towel to cushion it but decided against it. Let the bastard suffer. 

“Where’s Rose?”

“My house.”

Ian sat up slowly, clearly woozy. “I need her.”

“No shit.”

“I’ve got to go.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Pete informed him. “You’re staying right here while you sober up. When you’re no longer drunk and hopefully a little less stupid, I’ll let you see my daughter. _If_ she’s willing to talk to you.”

“Eleanor --”

“Is with Rose at my house. She’s fine.”

Ian nodded, but the motion seemed to pain him. He brought one hand up to his forehead and groaned. 

“Here,” Pete offered, taking pity at last. “Drink this and take these.”

Ian did as instructed, then immediately threw them up. Pete sighed, wondering if maybe he didn’t get the short end of the stick after all, then remembered that Graham was going to have to get through Jackie to see Rose. He’d stay right where he was. 

“Hurts, doesn’t it?”

“Kill me now.”

“Not a chance.”

“You’re the devil.”

“I warned you not to hurt my baby girl.”

“What the fuck did I do?” 

“You found pictures of Rose and the Doctor and somehow gleaned from those that she doesn’t love you anymore, that she’s been lying to you all this time.”

“She still loves him,” Ian said, his voice weak, his body sagging.

Pete squatted down so he was closer to Ian. “Listen to me and listen to me good, Ian Docherty. Yes. She loves him. She will always love him. Without him, she wouldn’t have Eleanor, she wouldn’t have me, and she wouldn’t have you. All of the good things in her life are a result of her relationship with him, either directly or indirectly. But she’s not _in love_ with him anymore. For whatever reason, and God only knows why, she’s in love with you and wants to marry you.”

“I have to talk to her.”

“No. Graham is with her now.”

Ian looked up with wide eyes. “Fergus is here?”

Pete snorted. “Yes. And it’s a good thing I was here, too, or he’d have had you sectioned, talking about aliens.”

"Fuck. How much did I say?"

"Plenty."

“You need to let me go over there, Pete. I have to talk to her. I think I --” he swallowed hard, “-- I think I may have called off the wedding.”

“You did. She’s destroyed right now, but she knows deep down you didn’t mean it.”

“Fuck no, I didn’t mean it! I just want her to love me.”

“God, you’re an idiot. I’m not sure I want her marrying someone so stupid.”

"Oi!"

"No, you miserable arsehole, you listen to me. She's done nothing BUT love you for the last ten months, probably longer. Do you think she’d let just anyone stay at her cottage? And not just at the cottage, but _in her bed?_ ” Ian started to stammer, his eyes wide, and Pete snapped at him. “Don't look at me like that, I'm not as big an idiot as you are, apparently. Do you not realize that she turned down the chance to go back because she was happy here? And if you think you weren’t the reason, you’re a fool. They were making progress on the cannon. It could have worked, eventually. She shut the whole thing down.”

“Oh, God.”

“Yeah.”

“What do I do?”

“Grovel, eventually. But for now, you sober up. Get showered, get dressed, then meet me downstairs.”

A good while later, after more retching and a shower, Ian walked into the kitchen barefoot wearing jeans and a well-worn t-shirt, his hair still wet, his face pale and drawn. He slowed as he passed the table, clean now but still laden with memories. His gaze lingered a moment, but he didn’t stop until he got to the bar and sat down.

Pete plunked a tall glass of a very viscous green liquid in front of him. “Drink that.”

“What the fuck is it?”

“Hangover remedy. You need to sober up before you talk to Rose.”

Ian sniffed at it cautiously. “Smells terrible.”

“Tastes worse, but it’ll help.”

He took a sip and recoiled, but didn’t throw up. “Oh, God. This is fucking horrendous.”

“They make it taste so bad so maybe you’ll think twice the next time you decide to get pissed.”

“I think the hangover is doing that job perfectly fucking well, thank you.” He winced as he brought the glass to his lips again and sipped. “You said Fergus is at the mansion?”

Pete nodded.

“What’s he doing?”

“Probably taking a beating from my wife for daring to show up on your behalf.”

Ian groaned. “Jackie is going to slap me.”

“You’ll be lucky if that’s all she does. I don’t plan on getting between the two of you.”

“Rose will probably let her,” he muttered. 

“No more than you deserve.”

“I have to convince her to marry me again.”

“I don’t think you’ll have too hard a time. She loves you desperately.”

Ian hung his head. “She shouldn’t.”

“But she does. You need to accept that, and soon.”

“I’ve ruined everything.”

“I doubt that. Rose isn’t going to throw everything away over one fight. She’s cleverer than that.”

He looked up hopefully. “You think?”

Pete took another sip of his coffee then nodded. “I know.”

“Fuck, I hope you’re right.”

~*~O~*~

It had taken some fast talking and superb acting, but Rose had finally convinced her mother to stop hovering and go on about her business as normal. Jackie had been wonderful the evening before, she’d been exactly what Rose needed, but what Rose needed _now_ was a little space to gather her thoughts. After a fair amount of protesting, Jackie had finally backed off and Rose was alone in the lounge with Eleanor. 

She spent the morning playing with the baby, reciting little nursery rhymes for her and teaching her to pattycake. Eleanor wasn’t clapping, but she was grasping her hands in front of herself, and Rose could just hear Ian crowing about what a bloody genius his daughter was. It was a bittersweet thought, and Rose cried a little before she brushed it aside. 

“There’s Mummy’s brilliant girl,” she cooed, picking the baby up and cuddling her close. “The most clever little girl in the whole world.”

“Must take after you, Birdie,” came a voice from the doorway, startling Rose. She jumped a mile and spun around to find a grinning Fergus standing just inside the door. “God knows her father’s a dumb bastard.”

“Fergus! What are you doing here?”

He strode into the room, still smiling a little. “Came to see you. And Ellie, of course. Hi, Ellie!”

Eleanor laughed when she saw her uncle and reached for him. Rose handed the baby over without a second thought, and Fergus settled himself down on the other end of the couch from Rose. 

“Ian sent you?”

“Ian was passed out drunk when I left. He has no idea I came to see you. Hell, as drunk as he was, he may have no idea I’m even in town.”

“I’m surprised mum didn’t slap you.”

“Pfft. She likes me. Ian on the other hand…”

“Well, I don’t like him that much right now, either.”

“Fair enough, from what I heard.”

Rose gave him a speculative look. “What _did_ you hear?”

Fergus sighed. “I heard that your dad saved some pictures from your mobile that you’d thought were lost forever. He printed them off and gave them to you, but you didn’t tell Ian you had them and he found them.”

“I didn’t even think about it! It was a non-issue!”

He held up a hand. “I’m not accusing you, Birdie. I don’t think you did anything wrong, really, but you asked what I was told - that’s what I was told.”

“What’s Ian say about it?”

“He was incoherent last night, lass. Talking about aliens and space and this bloke you still love.”

Rose raised her eyebrows. “Space?”

“Space.”

She sighed, pretending to brush it off. “It’s not like Ian’s thinking.”

“Tell me about it.”

She watched Eleanor reaching for the graphic on Fergus’ t-shirt for a minute, trying to formulate her answer. Finally she settled on: “His name was John. John Smith, if you can believe it. And we met when I was nineteen.”

“So you were with him for a long time.”

“Yes, although I wasn’t _with him_ -with him at all for the vast majority of that time. We were just friends, although I loved him desperately. We were only together _in that way_ for a couple of weeks before he… died.”

“So what did you do together?”

Rose laughed a little. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

“Mostly we travelled all over, helping people who needed it. I had lots of adventures, did some really amazing things. When the D- _John_ \- when he met me, I was still a kid in a lot of ways. Being with him, seeing the good and the bad in the world, getting into scrapes and saving lives… it grew me up.”

“I would imagine so,” Fergus said, his voice soft. 

“But, see, Ian can’t get past the idea that I _was_ in love with John. He can’t get past the fact that we were together romantically, even though it was only two weeks, and because of that, I haven’t been able to tell him much of anything about my years of adventures. Any time the subject came up, even in the very beginning, he’d get so jealous. He didn’t stop me talking, but he kinda... shut down. You know? Eventually, I quit trying.”

“That must be hard.”

Rose nodded and a teardrop fell onto her folded hands. “It has been. I want to tell him everything. I want to share all of my life with him, not just the parts that don’t include the Doctor.”

“The Doctor?”

She thought fast. “John was a doctor.”

“Ah.”

“When Mum brought me those pictures, I looked at them for a while, then put them away and forgot about them. That’s my past. Ian is my future.”

“Is he still?” Fergus asked gently. 

“If he wants to be,” she answered, barely above a whisper.

“He loves you, Birdie,” Fergus started. “He loves you so much, and he waited so long for you. He’d given up hope of ever meeting anyone years ago, then you came along.”

“I know he loves me, even if he’s not acting like it right now.”

“He’s so scared of losing you. Eleanor, too. Absolutely terrified.”

“All because he thinks I’m in love with someone else.”

“ _Do_ you love another man, Birdie? Truly?”

“No! Not in the way he’s thinking. I’ll always care about him, but my life is with your idiot cousin.”

“You have to tell him that.”

“He won’t believe me. I told him that morning in Glasgow that I loved him and was never leaving. Since then I’ve said it more times than I can count. If he’s bound and determined to believe that I’m going to leave him then nothing I say now is going to make a difference.”

“I don’t believe that’s true,” Fergus said. “I think this is likely to be a wakeup call for him. Coming this close to actually losing you… I think it may change how he views things.”

Rose swiped angrily at a tear. “Why can’t he believe me?”

“Fear, Birdie. He’s afraid to believe you. He told me once that he believed Eleanor was John’s baby until he saw evidence that she wasn’t because he was terrified of being hurt if it had gone the other way. This is kind of the same thing.”

“The only evidence I can offer him that I’m not leaving is my word, and that’s not good enough.”

“I believe it may be, now. I believe he hit rock bottom last night.”

Rose cried quietly for a second. “I do love him, Fergus. I love him so much…”

“I know you do. I believe you. And so does he, deep down.”

“Why’s he so stupid?”

“Beats me. He always has been, though. The smartest bloke in the room and an absolute idiot at the same time.”

Rose broke then, crying into her hands, and the next thing she knew, strong arms had gone around her. “There, there, Birdie. Don’t waste your tears on his dumb arse. It’s going to be alright.”

“He doesn’t want to marry me,” she sobbed.

“He does, Rose, desperately. He was drunk and emotional when he said that. He wants to marry you more than anything. Hell, he already thinks of you as his wife. Kept calling you that all night last night.”

Rose just cried harder, unable to help herself, really. Fergus held her close, stroking her back, murmuring soothing nonsense, reminding her forcibly of the way Auntie had comforted her in Glasgow several months ago. After a while she pulled herself together, sitting up and away from Fergus. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“I shouldn’t have blubbered on you.”

“You’re my family, Birdie. I’m one of the people you’re _supposed_ to blubber on.” She laughed a little at that, and he went on. “I’m just sorry my idiot cousin made you cry.”

Rose was quiet for a few minutes, looking down at Eleanor on the blanket on the floor, playing with her hands and feet. “I keep waiting for him to call me or text me…”

“He can’t. Pete took his mobile, too.”

She blinked back her tears and gaped at Fergus. “Blimey. Dad is pretty angry, huh?”

“That doesn’t begin to cover it. And I’m not especially pleased with him, myself.”

“I want to see him,” she said, resolved.

“He wants to see you, too, but I think it’s best if you let your dad deal with him for a while. Then I want a turn.”

“You two --”

“Aren’t going to hurt a hair on his head, but we both want to talk to him. Although,” he grinned, “your dad didn’t seem too sorry about watching him suffer through the hangover.”

“It was pretty bad, huh?” she asked quietly. 

“Birdie, I’ve never seen him as destroyed as he was last night. Let him stew in it for a while, then I’ll bring him back over here. You can talk then.”

Rose nodded. “Okay. If you think that’s best.”

“I do,” Fergus said seriously, then smiled. “But if you’re worried about his well-being, I promise to get him over here to you before Mam can find out what he did.”

She snorted. “Auntie won’t be too happy, I take it?”

“He may limp down the aisle after she’s done with him.”

Rose giggled in spite of herself. 

“Now,” Fergus declared, bending to pick up Eleanor. “What new tricks do you have to show your Uncle Graham, Ellie?”


	104. Chapter 104

15 September, 2012 (cont.)

“For the thousandth fucking time, will you stop fucking drumming on everything?” Pete ignored him and Ian massaged his pounding temples, trying to alleviate the pain there, then looked up at the clock for the umpteenth time. “What the fuck is taking so long?”

“Settle down,” Pete advised, turning the page of the newspaper and not looking up at Ian. “He’ll be here when he gets here.”

“Why don’t you just take me over there now? I’m sober, I swear I am.”

“I believe you.”

“Well then?”

“No.”

Ian growled, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. “At least give me my fucking mobile. I need to talk to her.”

“No.”

“Why not, goddammit?!”

Pete flipped another page, completely unconcerned with Ian’s dramatics. “You know why not, since we’ve been over this at least ten times already. Let your cousin talk to her. He’ll be back soon.”

“I can’t live like this, Pete. Please. Please for the love of all that is holy, fucking _please_. Have mercy on me. I need her.”

“Nothing has ever been clearer to me than that fact, Ian. But no.”

He opened his mouth to say something - God only knew what - but the front door opened, stopping his words. He dashed to the front of the house, hoping against hope it would be Rose, but it was Fergus.

“How’s Rose? Did you see her? Is she alright? Can I see her yet? How’s the baby?”

Fergus raised an eyebrow and smirked, shutting the door behind himself. “And good morning to you, too, bampot. Or afternoon, I suppose. Feeling better?”

“I feel fine,” Ian lied, ignoring the pounding in his brain. “How’s Rose?”

His cousin brushed by him and went into the kitchen, foraging around for something to eat. Ian followed him, doing his best not to lose his temper, trying hard to be patient. It wasn’t easy.

“Well, Ian, I’ll tell you, you’ve fucked up pretty tremendously this time.”

The bottom dropped out of his stomach. “She won’t see me.”

“Oh, she’ll see you, alright. She wants to talk to you. I told her I’d bring you ‘round after while. But you hurt her deeply.”

“I know. I can fix it. I just need --”

“You need to stay here and suffer a while longer. As drunk as you were, I’m not entirely sure you’re sober yet.”

Ian ground his teeth. “I’m sober, as sober as I’ve ever been.”

Pete crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “He’s coherent, at least, but sounds like a bloody broken record.”

“If you’d just fucking _take me to her_...”

“Bloody hell, Ian, let me eat. You’ll see her in a couple of hours.”

“A couple of hours!? You can’t fucking --”

“Hello, Ian,” came from behind him and Ian spun around on his heel to find Rose standing in the doorway to the kitchen, her hands clasped in front of herself anxiously, biting her lip. 

“Rose,” he breathed.

Tears were shining in her eyes, but he just stood there, stunned, not sure she was actually there. “I wanted to see you. Fergus was going to bring you back to the mansion, but I asked him to --”

She didn’t get to finish before he swept her into the tightest, fiercest hug he’d ever given another human being in his life. She broke, crying against him, and he started pleading forgiveness from her. 

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry, Rose, and I love you so much, please…”

“I love you, too,” she answered - at least he thought she did. She was sobbing too hard to be entirely clear.

“Don’t cry, sweetheart. Oh, Rose, please don’t cry. I’m such an arsehole, I’m so sorry.”

She gently pushed away from him, snuffling and wiping her cheeks. “We need to talk,” she said in as firm a voice as it seemed she could. 

“Right. Yes. I know. But I --”

“No, nimnole, that’s not how this is going to work,” Fergus broke in, interrupting Ian and reminding him that his cousin and Pete were still there. “No buts. This is not the sort of thing you just say ‘I’m sorry’ for and then it’s forgiven.”

Ordinarily, he’d have snapped at his cousin. Today, he just nodded. “You’re right. I’ll do anything.”

“Let’s go upstairs,” Rose suggested, wiping her cheeks, composed again. “Dad and Fergus can hang around down here.”

“Right. Yes. Upstairs,” he agreed, reaching for her hand then freezing, unsure. Rose looked down at it and seemed to contemplate for a minute, then slid her hand into his, setting his mind a little at ease. He squeezed her hand and started towards the back stairs. 

“We’ll be right downstairs if you need anything, Rose,” Pete said seriously, and Ian saw Rose nod. 

“Thanks, Dad. And Fergus.”

“You’re welcome, Birdie. And you, ye twat,” Fergus said, leveling his finger at Ian.

“Yeah?”

“Make this right. Don’t you dare fuck this up.”

Ian just nodded and ushered Rose up the stairs. 

Once they were alone, he wasn’t entirely sure what to say, how to start things. So as they walked down the corridor, he asked, “Where’s Eleanor?”

“With my mum. I didn’t think it would be ideal for her to be here while we’re talking.” She hesitated a second, a small smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. “Besides, I had to keep Mum busy somehow or she’d have come over here to slap you.”

“I’ll be shocked if she doesn’t, next time she sees me.”

Rose shook her head. “She won’t. I won’t let her.”

They fell silent again as Ian opened the bedroom door for her and followed her in, shutting it behind himself. He wanted to go to her, to pull her into his arms and beg forgiveness, but wasn’t sure what to do. He was just so damned happy to see her he couldn’t stand himself. 

“Rose, I --”

She held up a hand and cut him off. “I need to know what it’s going to take for you to trust me.”

“I _do_ trust you, sweetheart.”

“Not completely. If you trusted me completely, last night wouldn’t have happened.”

“Last night _shouldn’t_ have happened. I was just thrown off when I saw those pictures of you with…”

“With the Doctor. And Jack. And Mickey and Shareen and Keisha.”

“Yes.”

She was quiet for a second, then told him, “At some point you’re going to have to come to terms with the fact that I had a life before I met you. I had friends and adventures and yes, I was even in love with someone else.”

It felt like a kick to the gut, but he nodded. “I know.”

“All of that changed, though, when I landed here and met you. I still have friends and adventures, but they’re different now.”

“I know.”

“And I’m in love with you, Ian. Nobody else. I need you to understand that. I’m not in love with anyone but you. You are my future. You are my _everything_.”

“But --”

“No, there are no buts. I love you and no one else. I’ve told you this several times, but you don’t seem to believe me.”

“I do.”

"I grew up without a father, Ian. I know exactly what that's like. I didn’t invite you into my and my daughter's life willy nilly."

“I know. I do, sweetheart.”

“The first time this happened, it was because you had a dream. This time it’s because you saw evidence of the fact that I have a past. I can’t take another episode like this, Ian. I can’t live walking on eggshells, wondering what’s going to set you off next, and I can’t keep trying to convince you of my honesty. Either you believe me or you don’t.”

“I do. I do believe you, sweetheart.” She gave him a disbelieving look and he struggled to find a way to explain his thoughts. “I was… I don’t know how to explain it. Nothing justifies what I did.”

“What popped in your head when you saw those pictures? What made you pick up the bottle and start drinking?”

“The way he was looking at you,” Ian said at once. “Your first Doctor. The way he looked at you, I just knew. It’s the same way _I_ look at you. And then there was another man…”

“Jack. Jack was my friend.”

“I know. You told me. But he was cuddled up next to you.”

“Ian, I want you to really think about what I’m going to ask you for a second before you answer, okay? It’s a genuine question and I want you to think about it.”

He was wary, but nodded. “Alright…”

“Have I ever, at any time, given you any reason to believe that I would ever be unfaithful to you?”

“No!”

“I told you to think about it a second, Ian.”

He shut his mouth and did as asked, mentally cataloguing all their time together, combing for some reason he’d reacted the way he did, coming up empty. Finally, he shook his head. “No.”

“I know that watching me grieve losing the Doctor must have been hard on you, feeling the way you felt about me. The way you still feel. But I want you to think about the last time you saw me really pining for the Doctor, or the life I left behind.”

He racked his brain again, falling silent, then answered her after a few moments. “I don’t remember the last time it was actually you pining for him and not just in my head.”

“That’s because it’s been months, Ian. _Months._ I gave up on going back to him long before we were together. I told Dad to cancel the hoppers project after New Year’s, when you kissed me again.” 

“I know,” he acknowledged.

“It was my decision to stay here.”

“I know.”

“I was thinking of Eleanor when I did that, but I was also thinking of you. I wanted to make a life here. And even then, I think I knew that life would be with you.”

Ian just nodded, miserable. “You’re right. I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m an arse.”

"Do you know why I didn't tell you about the pictures? Or why I never mentioned the anniversary of me falling through the void?” Ian shook his head. “Because I forgot they existed. I’m _happy_ to be here. Am I happy to have those pictures? Yes. But that's my past. I'm not secretly aching to go back."

“I believe you.”

“Do you, Ian? Do you really?”

“I do, sweetheart. I trust you.”

She didn’t debate him, just ducked her head and nodded. He wasn’t sure what to say, how to further the conversation, but he was dying to get her back in his arms. Wasn’t sure how much longer he could wait. 

Rose went to the bed and sat down, then patted the place beside her. “Sit down,” she told him, and he didn’t waste any time before he did as asked, sitting gingerly in the space she indicated, refraining from grabbing her by sheer force of will. She surprised him when she took his hand and laced their fingers together, laying their joined hands on her leg. 

“I do have something to tell you, something I’ve kept from you.”

Ian’s heart seized up and his mouth went dry. “What?” he croaked. 

“It’s not bad. At least, I don’t think it’s bad. I don’t know what you’re going to think of it. That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

“Tell me now,” he almost pleaded.

“You’ve asked before how Eleanor is your daughter, and I kind of sidestepped you. I’m not a hundred percent certain that I’m right about this, but it’s the best guess I have. I’m pretty sure.”

“What?”

“When I was traveling with the Doctor and Jack - my first Doctor - the words ‘Bad Wolf’ kept cropping up everywhere we went. The Doctor didn’t know what it meant - none of us did - so we just kind of ignored it. After a while, we went to this place called the Gamestation. It was a satellite where a bunch of reality television shows were being filmed for Earth, far in the future. Turns out, the station was being run by a race called the Daleks - the Doctor’s mortal enemy.”

“Okay,” he said, trying to understand what this had to do with him.

“Things were looking… dire. The Doctor was preparing to sacrifice himself in order to kill them all, but he didn’t want anything to happen to me. So he sent me back home in the TARDIS, without my input.”

Ian nodded, not really sure what else he could say.

“I was furious with him. Mum and Mickey found me and I was distraught. I didn’t know how to fly the TARDIS and thought I was stuck in London while he died. The thought killed me. But the words Bad Wolf were everywhere again, and I finally figured out that they were a message, telling me that I _could_ get back to him. Now that I knew I could do it, there was no stopping me. I opened the console of the TARDIS, looked into her heart, and took the Vortex inside of me, then went back to save the Doctor.”

Ian had no idea what to say. Half of what she was saying made no sense at all, the rest was utterly unbelievable, and he had no idea what any of it had to do with him... but he had a feeling her story was only about to get _more_ unbelievable before it made sense.

“No one is meant to look into the heart of the TARDIS like that. It made me a goddess of time, the Bad Wolf herself, and when I was the Bad Wolf, I was able to see everything. The past, present, and future. Everything. And I had the ability to change anything I didn’t like. I don’t remember what I saw or did as Bad Wolf, so here’s where the guesswork comes in. I think she - I - saw that I was going to be separated from the Doctor. I think Bad Wolf saw that I’d be in a parallel world without my Doctor and she - I - put me here, with you. I’m meant to be here with you, Ian. You were meant for me. I chose you before I ever met you.”

His mind was reeling, trying to process everything she was telling him. Rose was quiet, just stroking his hand with her thumb, and he was grateful for the time to gather his thoughts. There were so many questions he wanted to ask, but the first and foremost was, “But how does Eleanor’s DNA match mine? How is she fully my daughter?”

Rose gave a wan smile. “Here’s the part I think you’re not going to like. There are no Time Lords in this universe, so there’s no Doctor here. But I think Bad Wolf wanted Eleanor to be with her father, so she put me with this universe’s _version_ of her father. She put me with you.”

Ian’s eyes widened and he pulled away from her a little in shock. “Me?”

She nodded. “I think you’re the Doctor of this universe. The human Doctor. And it even makes sense, when I thought about it. There are parallel versions of nearly everyone. My mum and dad, Shareen, Jimmy, there was even a parallel Mickey who died. You may kill me for saying so, but you and the Doctor - well, you’re a lot alike, in some regards.”

“You think _I’m_ the Doctor?”

“Yes. Kind of. I think you’re this universe’s version. I think, if you were to take your DNA and compare it to the Doctor’s, it would match. At least one version of him. A version I never met.”

Ian was stunned. He had no idea what to say. His mouth worked soundlessly and his brain scrambled to make sense of what she was telling him. 

“Are you alright?” Rose asked, hesitantly. 

“Fine,” he lied. “I’m just… mindfucked.”

“It’s a lot to take in,” she agreed. “And I didn’t know how to tell you. That’s why I kept it to myself.”

“When did you know? That I’m...I’m him.”

“It just sort of slowly dawned on me. I was comfortable with you right away, I felt safe with you. I didn’t feel that way with anyone else. Plus, Eleanor responded to you, even in the womb. When Eleanor’s DNA came out to be yours, that sort of solidified it for me.”

He thought for a little longer. “So she really is mine.”

Rose nodded. “She really is. Bad Wolf made sure of that.”

“Are you still…?” He trailed off, not knowing how to phrase what he wanted to ask. 

She shook her head, understanding him perfectly. “The Vortex was burning me up from the inside out. No one is meant to look into it, after all, and especially not a human. So the Doctor, he took it out of me. But it was too much for his body, too, and he regenerated. Became a new man. And that’s how I got my second Doctor. He died to save my life.”

Ian couldn’t believe it, but he was suddenly, immensely grateful to the Doctor. 

Rose was quiet for a little longer. “You don’t have to worry about me wanting to leave you, no matter what. I’m where I’m meant to be, and I never want to leave. But even if I _did_ want to go back… He - he regenerated. When Eleanor was born. I… I felt it. There were power surges because he fought it, he didn’t want to go. But that’s why I went into labor early, I believe. Because he regenerated. So you see, even if I wanted to go back, it wouldn’t matter. He’s a new man now, probably has new companions, and he may not even want me.” She sniffed, then huffed a mirthless laugh. “This is my Aberdeen.”

She swiped a tear away hurriedly, but Ian spotted the motion. Deciding he’d waited long enough to hold her, he put his arms around her, pulling her close. Rose leaned over against his chest, crying, and he just held her and let her get it out. For the first time, he understood that being sad about what she’d lost and wishing she could go back weren’t the same thing. She had every right to grieve, and he did his best to just hold her quietly, murmuring that it was alright. 

When she’d settled down a little he started scooting back on the bed, pulling her with him, until he was lying with his head on the pillows and Rose in his arms. She went willingly, letting herself be held and comforted, and he stroked her back while he soothed her. After a long while, he spoke. 

“Sweetheart, for what it’s worth, I don’t believe that he doesn’t want you anymore. I love you completely, with every fiber of my being. If he and I are the same man, I have to believe he feels the same way. There’s no way he could ever not want you.”

She cried a little more and he just held her, pressing little kisses to the top of her head. 

When she gathered herself, she said, “I’ve wanted to share this with you, I’ve wanted to tell you stories about my time with him, but it always upset you so much…”

“That was wrong of me, and it won’t happen anymore. Now that I know more, I understand better. If you want to talk about your time with the Doctor, I want you to.”

“You’ve said that before.”

“I mean it this time. I want to hear all your stories. I can’t promise I’ll love hearing about how in love with him you were but, well, if we’re the same man, maybe I _will_ love that.”

Rose nodded and he pushed her hair back, out of her face. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” she murmured. 

“You were right not to tell me. I wasn’t ready to hear it. But I’m glad you told me now.”

“You forgive me?”

Deciding he couldn’t stand it another second, he ducked his head and kissed her lips softly. “There’s nothing to forgive, sweetheart. But I need you to forgive me. I was an absolute arse. I should never have --”

She cut him off by putting her finger to his lips. “It’s over. It’s done. I forgive you. Just promise me you won’t do that again.”

“I swear, Rose. Give me a couple days to get over this and I’ll sit down with you and go through the pictures. I’m serious. I want to hear all your stories, and Eleanor deserves to hear them.”

She just gave a little smile and nuzzled into his chest. He held her closer, his arms around her and their legs tangled together, and thanked the Bad Wolf for choosing him. 

The two of them were silent for a long time, tangled gently together, and Ian started to wonder if she’d fallen asleep. She was likely tired - without the alcohol, there would have been no way that he’d have slept, and he imagined she hadn’t slept well at her parents’ house, either. He felt himself start to drift, content and at peace, when she spoke and startled him. 

“Ian?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Did you mean it when you said you think I don’t love you?”

“No. I believe you. I was just drunk and hurt and stupid.”

“I do love you, Ian. I love you more than I could ever say. You and Eleanor… I wasn’t a complete person without you, but now I am. And I want to be with you forever, for the rest of my life.”

He stroked her cheek with the tips of his fingers. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Yeah. I will not ever want another kiss that does not come from you. Ever.” She looked away, suddenly uncertain, then, in a quieter voice, said, “I know this was a big fight and there’s a lot to think about, but... will you still marry me?”

He chuckled a little, even though his eyes were filled with tears, and ducked his head to kiss her again. “There’s nothing for me to think about. All I want is to marry you, in seventy-eight days.”

“You mean it?”

“I do.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been so sure about anything. I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you, too.”

His mouth sought hers out, his lips sliding softly against hers, parting them and nibbling her bottom lip a little. They kissed each other languidly, offering apologies and promises without saying a word, until he felt himself starting to harden and broke the kiss. Now wasn’t the time for that. He needed to hold her, to feel her close, to lie in her arms and just be loved. He suspected she needed much the same. 

Half an hour later, when Fergus and Pete came up to check on them, the two men found them in a gordian knot of arms and legs, sleeping peacefully together.


	105. Chapter 105

29 September, 2012

Rose was dimly aware of Ian getting out of bed, but she didn’t pay him much mind. Her breasts weren’t hurting and Eleanor wasn’t crying, meaning she had no real reason to get up yet, and, besides, Ian had kept her up late the night before, cuddling on the couch then making love until they were both limp with exhaustion. It had been a bit of a struggle to put their pyjamas back on to sleep, and they’d both drifted off as soon as they were cuddled up together. 

Now, this morning, she let herself be swung gently back and forth between wakefulness and sleep. In the distance, she thought she may have smelled breakfast being made, but sleep took her again. She awoke with a mild start when she heard Ian coming into the room and greeting her. 

“Good morning, sweetheart. Rise and shine.”

She sat up, rubbing her eyes blearily, to see Ian approaching her side of the bed, a large tray in his hands. 

“What’s this?” she asked on a yawn. 

“Breakfast in bed for my sweetheart.”

“But… why?”

He set the tray down on the bed in front of her and bent to kiss her lips gently. “Because you are the most precious thing in my life and I don’t do a good enough job of showing you that every day.”

She flushed a little. “You do. You’re amazing.”

“I’m an arse and you know it. Now…”

He lifted the lid of the tray with a flourish and there sat a full English breakfast with bacon, sausages, eggs, and toast with marmalade. There was a steaming cup of coffee sitting there beside a glass of juice, and in a little vase was a single, long stem rosebud in a pretty pink shade. Rose felt herself welling up.

“Ian…”

“Eat up,” he encouraged her, smiling and stealing another kiss. 

“Where’s yours?”

“I ate as I was cooking. Go on, then. Let me take care of you for a change.”

Rose smiled a little. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Now eat.”

They made small talk while Rose ate her breakfast, just chatting about nothing in particular. Ian told her that his cousin, Luciano, was going to be in town on business in a couple of weeks and asked if she’d like to do dinner. Rose was excited at the idea of meeting more of Ian’s family and gladly agreed. 

When she was nearly done, Eleanor started to cry from the next room. Before she could make a move, Ian was on his feet. “I’ve got her.”

“I’ll go,” she said, trying to move the tray and get to her feet. “She’ll be hungry.”

“Then I’ll bring her to you,” he reasoned, already crossing the room. “Seriously, Rose, just stay there.”

She sighed and rolled her eyes, but did as asked. Within a couple of minutes, Ian came back carrying Eleanor, and Rose felt herself light up at the sight of her two favorite people in the universe. She reached for the baby and Eleanor came to her, pawing at her breast, demanding her own breakfast in bed. 

“Yes, yes, I know, Miss Impatient. Just let Mummy get herself situated…”

As soon as Rose’s breast was free, Eleanor latched onto it and started nursing hungrily. Rose smiled down at her daughter, then up at Ian, blissfully happy with her lot in life. 

“Rose?” Ian started, picking up the finished tray and putting it to the side, out of the way.

“Yes?”

“Will you tell me one of your stories?”

Rose stiffened. She hadn’t expected that. 

“Ian --”

“I want to hear about your adventures. Eleanor should be able to hear them, too. It’s important for her to know just how amazing her mummy really is.”

Guilt wracked Rose and she tried to think of a way to change the subject. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

“What?”

“You don’t have to make yourself listen to my adventures because we had a fight. I’m not angry with you anymore, and I’m fine to keep them to myself. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Ian shook his head. “I’m more uncomfortable knowing that there’s this whole chunk of your life I know fucking nothing about.”

“But --”

He reached over and took her free hand. “I’m not doing this because I feel guilty, Rose. I genuinely want to know more about you. Please, share this part of yourself with me?”

She regarded him carefully for a few minutes, not entirely sure what to say, not entirely sure he was being genuine. 

“Are you sure? These stories are going to make me sound like a nutter.”

“Absolutely sure. Tell me all about them. You’ve hinted towards several things. Like, you told me once you blew up Downing Street. Tell me about that.”

 _Well, okay,_ she decided, seeing no way around it. She took a minute to gather her thoughts, then started. “The Doctor and I hadn’t been travelling together long, and he brought me home. We were on the roof of my building, talking about something, and suddenly a spaceship flew overtop of us and crashed into the Thames. Took out part of Big Ben.”

“You’re shitting me.”

Rose shook her head. “Nope. Not shitting you. The whole city went bonkers, and the government sent for the Doctor. He and I went to Downing Street to help them sort it out. But, see, some government people were disappearing and being replaced by…” She hesitated, not quite sure how to phrase this next bit. “They were fat people who farted a lot. It took a little bit, but the Doctor eventually sussed out that they were aliens, taking over the bodies of the people they’d killed. They liked portly people because there was more room in their bodies, see? And the gas was them trying to stay inside the body suits.”

Ian’s eyes were wide and she felt self-conscious all of a sudden. “Are you sure you want me to keep going? A lot of this is beyond belief.”

He nodded. “Go on.”

She did. “The aliens were called the Slitheen, and they intended to turn the Earth into scrap. Well, naturally, the Doctor couldn’t allow that. We got chased into the cabinet room with a backbench MP and locked it down so they couldn’t get to us while we planned what to do.”

“What did you do?”

“We rang Mickey. He’s always been good with computers. The Doctor helped him hack into a military site and commandeer a missile. And that’s how we blew up Downing Street,” she finished lamely. 

Ian looked angry. “He put you in danger like that?”

“I told him to,” she insisted, leaping to the Doctor’s defense. “It was the only way to kill the Slitheen, and I told him to do it. He didn’t want to. We survived, obviously, and all but one of the Slitheen were killed.”

“Well I have to admit,” he said, sounding awed. “That’s a better story than most fucking sci-fi movies.”

Eleanor finished eating and Rose raised her to the shoulder to burp, pleased with his reaction, but still a little hesitant. “Nearly every adventure we had involved us being in terrible danger, but I always came out alright. Are you sure you want to hear my stories, knowing that?”

“As long as I know you were alright, I’ll be fine,” he assured her.

Rose turned the baby so she was sitting in her lap, and pondered what else to tell him. “We also traveled in time. I’ve been to caveman times, and I’ve seen the end of the world - the day the Earth goes up in flames, consumed by the sun.”

“What was your favorite time period you visited?”

“Oh, gosh, I don’t know how I would choose. Every time period held its own appeal, although meeting Charles Dickens was nice. He fancied me.”

Ian chuckled. “I just bet he did.”

“I’ve been on alien spaceships, too. One time, right after he regenerated, the Doctor was still in a regeneration coma, so he wasn’t there to help. Me, Mickey, Mum and the TARDIS got sucked up onto a Sycorax ship, and I had to fill in for the Doctor. I was really botching it, too. Thankfully, Mum’s tea woke him up.”

“Your mum’s tea?” Ian laughed. “I knew she made good tea, but never dreamed…”

“It’s true. All those free radicals and tannins.” Rose smiled a little wistfully, thinking back on the Doctor’s explanation. “The Doctor got in a swordfight with the Sycorax leader in that adventure. He won, but his hand was chopped off.”

“The Doctor only had one hand?”

Rose shook her head. “No, he was still in the first fifteen hours of his regeneration cycle, so it grew back.”

It was Ian’s turn to shake his head, a little in disbelief. “I tried to warn you,” she said. “I know I sound barmy --”

“No, you’re not barmy.”

“I saved the Doctor,” she started, her confidence growing. “Loads of times. Starting practically the first day I met him. He was being held captive by some shop window dummies. This living plastic had… I don’t know, infected them or something. Scared out of my mind, I was, with Mickey yelling at me to just run away and the Doctor, helpless. And then there was this moment where I stopped cowering and stood up. I could feel my heart pounding in my ears, but I knew if _I_ didn’t do something, that we’d all end up dead, maybe the whole world. So I grabbed an axe and chopped at this chain until it came loose. Then I -- I swung out over this pit and freed the Doctor.”

“Sweetheart, that’s incredible. I just wish I had known all of this about you sooner. Makes me love you even more.”

Rose smiled a little. “Yeah?”

“Absolutely. I mean, I already knew how brave you are, but hearing more evidence is just extraordinary. I’m so proud of you, sweetheart.”

She felt tears pricking - happy tears - and blinked them back. Ian leaned forward and kissed her lightly, then pulled the baby over to him. “Do you hear all that, Eleanor? Your mummy is a hero. What a lucky girl you are to have someone like that to look up to.”

The happy tears spilled. 

Ian brushed the tears aside, kissed her softly again, then asked her to tell another of her stories. The little family spent most of the day in bed, listening to Rose talk about her adventures.

~*~O~*~

9 October 2012

Rose stood in front of the full-length mirror, adjusting the jewelry she wore, checking her reflection for the umpteenth time. Luciano was due for dinner in less than fifteen minutes, and she was more than a little nervous. Ian hadn’t talked a great deal about his cousin, only that ‘Luci’ was a club owner and the two of them usually caught up with each other over dinner or drinks once a year or so. Rose wasn’t even sure what he looked like, but she supposed she’d find that out in the next few minutes. She wanted to make a good impression on Ian’s family - even family he wasn’t especially close to - and compulsively checked her appearance again. Ian had told her not to dress any differently than she normally would, that this was just a casual family dinner, so Rose had tried pick her outfit with that in mind, opting for snug-fitting denims and an off-the shoulder jumper. Her favorite boots and some pretty jewelry completed the ensemble, and all in all, she was rather pleased with how she looked. Giving herself one last glance in the mirror, she nodded and headed out of the bathroom. 

When she got to the hallway, she heard Ian speaking downstairs, rapid Italian that she had no hope of understanding. Another voice laughed, then answered in Italian as well, and Rose assumed that must be Luciano. She took one last deep breath, squared her shoulders and went down the stairs to meet him. 

Ian came around the corner when he heard her and eyes brightened when he caught sight of her. He came to her side, dropping a kiss to her lips. “Hello, sweetheart.”

“Hey there.”

“You look ravishing.”

She flushed. “I love you, too.”

Ian chuckled, then put his hand out for her. “Come, meet Luci.”

Rose took the offered hand and let Ian lead her around the corner into the study, where a devastatingly handsome man stood with a tumbler of scotch in his hand. He was tall and dark, with the stubble of a beard on his swarthy jaw. His dark eyes glittered pleasantly, and Rose had thought that Fergus was handsome, and he absolutely was, but this man was bloody _gorgeous_. 

“Rose,” Ian started proudly, putting his arm around her waist, “This is my cousin, Luciano. Luci, this is my fiancee, Rose Tyler.”

Luciano smiled then, and Rose blinked. 

“Rose Tyler,” he said with a thick accent as he took the hand she had offered him, “it is an unspeakable pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He bowed over her hand and brushed his lips along her knuckles and Rose couldn’t help it, she flushed to the roots of her hair. 

“The pleasure is all mine,” she said as naturally as she could. “Ian has told me a bit about you.”

“All good, I hope?”

She looked up at Ian and bloody hell, he was gorgeous. His cousin had nothing on him. 

“All good,” she managed to agree. 

Luciano chuckled, then straightened and let go of her hand. Rose nuzzled closer into Ian’s side and felt him press a kiss to the top of her head. 

“I have to say, Miss Tyler, you’re more than a bit of a surprise. I’d heard rumors through the proverbial grapevine that Ian was seeing someone, but never got around to calling and asking him about it before there was a birth announcement in my post.”

Rose flushed, just as she usually did when someone hinted towards the tightness of the timeline between meeting Ian and having Eleanor. Ian, who knew her discomfort all too well, squeezed her waist and spoke up. 

“We’ve been terribly busy, especially since Eleanor arrived a few months ago. I’m sorry, I should have been better about staying in touch.”

Luciano waved an airy hand. “Don’t worry about it. I could have called, as well, and didn’t. I just never figured I’d see you so in love!”

Ian chuckled. “Never have been, ‘til Rose.”

Rose beamed up at him and he turned to look down at her, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. She melted a little.

“That’s sweet,” Luciano said, smiling, and Rose was surprised that he seemed genuine. “Speaking of the baby, where is the little bundle of joy? Seems I should meet the new family member, shouldn’t I?”

As if on cue, Eleanor started to fuss from the swing she’d been sleeping in, and her parents pulled away from each other to go to her, instinctively. “This way,” Ian instructed his cousin, and the three of them went to the lounge. 

Eleanor calmed almost completely as soon as she caught sight of her parents, then her eyes landed on Luciano and she went nearly silent. Ian swooped over to pick her up, cradling her close and giving her several noisy little kisses before he turned to face his cousin. “Luciano, this is my daughter. Eleanor Grace Docherty. Eleanor,” he said to the baby in a softer voice, “this is cousin Luci. Can you say hi?”

The baby just peered up at this family member she didn’t know, studying his face. Luciano seemed to take it in stride, however, and bent forward a little so he was closer to her. “Hello, Eleanor, and aren’t you a beautiful girl? Take after your mother,” he teased, and Rose flushed again. 

“Actually,” she defended, “we think she looks more like her father.”

“Really? Well, I suppose I can see that, but she really is quite a bit prettier than this _cavolo_.”

Rose had no idea what that meant, but Ian just rolled his eyes and fired something back at Luciano in rapid Italian, then they both laughed. 

“I’m going to be left out of the loop quite a bit with you two, I can tell already,” Rose complained.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, old habit,” Ian explained, then kissed the side of her head. “Luciano, do you mind hanging around with us in the kitchen before dinner? The baby needs to be fed before any of us will be allowed to eat a bite.”

He smiled. “Absolutely. It would be my pleasure. After you.”

Ian turned to go into the kitchen to prepare a bottle. Luciano gestured for Rose to go first, then followed her.

~*~O~*~

“So!” Luciano said as they tucked into the main course at dinner. “Tell me how you two met.”

Rose and Ian gave each other a quick glance, then Ian started. “It was at Rose’s parents’ vow renewal last September. You remember Pete, yeah?”

“Your best mate?”

“That’s him,” Ian agreed. “I had never met Rose before that night, and wasn’t sure who she was when I saw her, but she was absolutely the most gorgeous creature I’d ever laid eyes on in my life. I kept watching her all evening, hoping to get a chance to talk to her, and finally caught her outside on one of the terraces while she was getting some air.”

“And you two hit it off right away, I presume?”

“There was definitely a… spark,” Rose said, sticking carefully to the public version of the story. “But after that first night, we elected to take things slow and get to know each other.”

“We’d both been burned before - Rose had just gotten out of a relationship and you know how bad the shit with Jenn was. Neither of us needed another heartache.”

“It only took a couple of months before I realized Ian was the one, though,” Rose conceded. “Not long at all. We just… we were perfect together.”

“And now you’re getting married,” Luciano said, sounding satisfied. “I can’t think of a lovelier story. Are you excited?”

“Over the fucking moon,” Ian smiled, reaching over to take Rose’s hand. “It’s all like a dream come true.”

She smiled at him and squeezed his hand. He was right, it was very much like a dream come true. 

“Well, I’ll certainly be here to celebrate with you. Rose, what are your plans for a hen night?”

Rose was caught off-guard by the abrupt change in the conversation’s direction and floundered a second. “I… I don’t know. My girlfriends and I will be going out, I suppose…”

“Well, I would very much like to host your hen do at my club, Nox. Everything will be on me, of course, and you’ll have the VIP treatment.” Rose gasped and he smiled. “We’ll provide you with a limo for you and your friends to and from the club - no worries about driving - and you’ll have the run of the place. Plus, my security is top-notch, so we’ll be able to keep the paparazzi at bay and you can party in peace. All of this with Ian’s blessing, of course.”

Ian was just smiling, shaking his head. “Leave it to you to have a drunken night on the town as a wedding gift, Luci.”

Luciano smirked. “Well, one must play to their strengths, you know. And it’s not a wedding gift. I’ll be buying you a gravy boat or something similar as a wedding gift - I’m not _completely_ uncivilized. This is simply a welcome to the family from me to Rose.”

Rose blinked, still a little shell shocked, and looked over at Ian. “Well, I don’t know…”

“I think it sounds like a lovely idea,” Ian said. “Particularly the part about good security.”

She snorted at that. “That would be the part you latch onto. I think Henry is going to insist on being involved. If we even do this.”

He smirked a little, then reached over and grabbed her hand, kissing it before he said, “Seriously, Rose. You haven’t been out for a night on the town since I’ve known you. You could go out with Osgood and the other girls and have a wonderful time in a safe environment. I trust my cousin to take care of you. I think you should do it.”

“Well, if you say so…”

“Splendid!” Luciano said, sounding pleased with himself. “And, of course, I’ll also host the stag do.”

“Oh, there’s no need for that,” Ian said, waving his hands in a warding-off gesture. “I have no intention of going out and getting bladdered to celebrate my wedding.”

Rose knew he was thinking about their fight from a couple of weeks ago, and while she appreciated his tact, she didn’t want him to hold himself back from having a good time. 

“Ian,” she said softly, catching his gaze, “I think you should go out for your stag night. It’s the last one you’ll ever have, after all.”

He gave her an incredulous look. “Are you joking? You’re going to turn me loose and entrust me to Fergus and Luciano?”

She giggled a little. “Don’t forget my dad and Mickey.” Ian scoffed and Rose squeezed his hand. “I trust you, handsome. You should have a stag do that blows them all away. You deserve it.”

He sighed, and Rose fought back the urge to smirk. “Oh, alright. Stag night it is. But no strippers!” Ian threw out with his finger pointing at Luciano.

His cousin looked stung. “I would never disrespect your lovely fiancee in such a manner.” Then he winked at Rose and she giggled while Ian groaned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting to the end of this story! There will be 112 chapters and then an epilogue. Hang in there!
> 
> Also... in case you like visualizing as you read, this is Luciano:  
> 


	106. Chapter 106

17 November 2012

Ian reclined on the bed lazily while Rose did heaven knows what in the ensuite, getting ready for her hen do. Henry was scheduled to arrive with Rose’s entourage to pick her up within half an hour and the baby had konked out a few minutes ago, so Ian was taking advantage of the last little bit of time he had with Rose before she left. 

“Are you excited?” he called through the door. 

“I suppose,” she said, and he could almost see her shrug. “I haven’t been out in ages. Blimey, I think the last time I did something like this, I was nineteen or so.”

“Or so?”

“Time got a bit wonky in the TARDIS.”

“Ah. Yes, I would imagine so.”

“Just meant that at any time, I could decide it was my birthday and demand a cake. The TARDIS would always provide one and take us somewhere fun - whether he’d meant to go there or not. The Doctor usually just went along with it.”

Ian grinned, and Rose made a strange, frustrated noise from inside the bathroom.

“You alright in there?”

“Yes, I’m fine. I suppose. Blimey. I’m almost nervous!”

He gave her a puzzled look through the door. “Nervous? Why the fuck would you be nervous?”

“Maybe I’m too old for all this,” she fretted, and the sincerity in her voice made him swallow a laugh. “I’m somebody’s mother, for heaven’s sake, and about to be somebody’s wife. It’s not terribly becoming.”

“You’ll be fine, sweetheart,” he assured her. “You just go out and have a wonderful time, whatever that looks like. If you want to dance, dance. If you want to drink, drink. Your baby and I will be right here when you get home. Just have fun and don’t worry about us.”

Rose muttered something indecipherable and he heard the blow dryer come on. He readjusted himself on the bed, crossing his ankles and putting his hands behind his head, grinning a little at his sweetheart even though she couldn’t see him. 

When the blow dryer cut off, he waited a minute then called into the bathroom, “Did Henry ever stop grumbling?”

“Eventually. It was like negotiating a major treaty, I swear.”

Ian chuckled. The subject of security had been a tricky one. Henry had insisted that he needed to be on hand to act as Rose’s bodyguard. Rose, thinking of Anna and how she would likely enjoy an unencumbered evening, had argued that the club’s security would be enough, especially when they knew that Rose was marrying into Luciano’s family. It had been quite the battle of wills before a settlement was reached: Henry would drive the ladies to and from the evening’s festivities, but give them space once they were there, leaving the task of watching over them inside the nightclub to Luciano’s security. It was a compromise that everyone could live with, although Ian still had little flashes of worry that he did his best to tamp down. He still remembered their first run-in with the paparazzi all too well. 

But that had been ages ago, and there’d been no problem of crowding since. 

Everything would be fine, he just knew it would. 

The door to the bathroom opened and Rose stepped out, freezing Ian’s thoughts. His gaze started at her feet, which were clad in strappy black stilettos that elongated her legs and made them look even more delicious than they usually did. They were bare until her knee, where the skirt of a black, slinky dress began, hugging her curves snugly. The front of the dress plunged, showing off her ample cleavage, and Ian’s hands twitched from want of touching those breasts. Her hair was down, tumbling over her bare shoulders in beachy waves, and she wore simple jewelry so as not to take away from the impact of the dress. It was effective: Ian barely noticed the jewelry at all. Her skin seemed to glow and he licked his lips unconsciously, wanting to taste. 

“Are you alright?” she asked, smirking at him. 

Ian let his eyes take her in again and she posed for him, putting her hand on her hip and rolling one foot up onto her toes so her creamy thigh came through the slit in her skirt. Before he knew it, he was off the bed, standing in front of her, crowding her a little, his hands on her hips. 

“Rose…” he began, not quite sure what else he’d be able to say. 

“I take it I look alright?”

“You look...I don’t have words, sweetheart.”

She giggled and went on tiptoes to plant a kiss on his lips. “Good. That was my intention.”

His brain was static: her perfume filled his nose and left him dizzy. He wanted her - right that fucking second - but did his best to push down the impulse to take her. His hands squeezed her hips from the effort. 

“What’s on your mind, handsome?”

“You have no idea how badly I want to fuck you right now.”

Rose, the little minx, draped her arms around his neck and let her eyes twinkle up at him. “Is that so?”

His cock was like iron and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold out. When she left, he was due for the wank of a lifetime. “That’s so.”

She went on tiptoes again and lightly, so lightly, kissed his lips. “I think I like this caveman instinct you’re displaying, the urge to take what’s yours. How can I encourage it?”

“You’re playing with fire, sweetheart…” he warned her. 

Rose was heedless, just took his bottom lip between hers and nibbled. That broke him and he groped her bum, grinding his cock against the front of her, letting her feel what she’d done to him. His lips devoured hers and he could dimly feel her lipstick smearing all over his mouth but couldn’t possibly give less of a fuck. Rose raised one leg and hooked it over his hip. Ian let his hand slide under her skirt, up the back of her smooth thigh until he reached her bum - and groaned into her mouth. It was bare. Rose smirked against his lips and Ian let himself bring his hand back around to seek out her center, finding _that_ part of her covered with rapidly-dampening silk. He quickly pushed the fabric to the side and plunged two long fingers into her. 

“Ian!” Rose squealed, arching her back, and Ian started fucking her with his fingers. She made little noises with every plunge and retreat, and he worked her expertly, driving her higher and higher until she was incoherent. She was mouthing at his neck - nibbling, sucking, and biting, and it increased his need for her. He’d only intended to bring her off as something to remember him by while she was out with her friends, now he felt almost desperate to fuck her. 

He pulled his fingers out of her with a wet sound and reached down to the backs of her thighs, pulling her up so her legs were around him. Once he was satisfied that she was safe, he carried her over to the bed and threw her down, enjoying the way her breasts bounced for only a moment before he descended on her, pulling the shoulder of her dress down and freeing her breast. Within a second, he had it in his mouth, laving the nipple, loving the way her nails scraped his scalp when she was tugging his hair and calling his name. 

Ian took his place between her spread thighs, rutting her through his clothes and her skimpy knickers, kissing her wildly. The friction was brilliant, fucking _gorgeous_ , but she wouldn’t come this way. He needed to give her more. Was _dying_ to give her more. But should he?

She settled the issue in his mind when she whimpered. “Fuck me, Ian. Please, please fuck me…”

Never one to deny his sweetheart, he pushed himself upright and tore at the buckle and zip of his trousers, unwilling to wait long enough to completely disrobe. This was going to be quick, hard, and dirty. He couldn’t wait. 

As soon as his cock was free, he dropped back down so he was covering her, pulled her knickers to the side and thrust home, earning a cry from deep in Rose’s throat. He put his mouth to work licking and sucking the source of the noise even as he pounded into her, bypassing his usual tendency to start slow and build up, fucking her desperately. Her skin tasted a little bitter due to the perfume she’d put there, but he didn’t care. Her throat vibrated under his lips with each sound she made and he grinned, knowing how much he affected her. 

“That’s right, sweetheart. Let me hear you. Tell me what I’m doing to you.”

“Feels so good,” she managed between thrusts. “So good, so hard, Ian. Love it. Love you.”

“Love you, sweetheart. All mine.”

“Yours,” she agreed, digging the heel of one stiletto into the back of his trouser-clad leg. “God, I’m yours, all yours!”

“When you come home tonight, I’ll fuck you again,” he almost taunted her, fucking her hard and steady. “I hope you’re ready.”

“Oh, God!” she cried out, and he felt her start to twitch and flutter around him. Her fingernails dug into his back, the fabric of his shirt dampening the sharp stinging, and he briefly considered stopping long enough to take it off so he could get the full effect of her clawing. The idea was dismissed almost at once. He’d rather die than stop plowing into her the way he was. Instead, he encouraged her. 

“That’s it, sweetheart. That’s it. Let go. Come for me.”

With a cry, she released, clutching him as close as she could, calling his name over and over again while he continued to fuck her. He did his best to prolong her orgasm, adding a little grind to his thrusts so he hit her oversensitized clit, and was rewarded when she bit down on his shoulder, hard. 

The pain was enough to send him sailing over the edge to his own release and he was unable to do anything but grunt when he slammed into her as hard and deep as he could go and came into her like a bleeding freight train. 

He wasn’t aware of anything for long moments, just floating on a cloud of bliss, then he felt Rose’s fingertips tracing up and down his spine. He was still drained and felt too weak to lift his body, but turned his head to kiss her cheek, her shoulder, everything that was near enough for him to reach without expending too much effort. Rose sighed happily and he did, too.

“That was…”

“Yeah,” he agreed. 

Rose giggled. “I wasn’t exactly expecting that.”

“You should have,” he told her sincerely, then raised his head to kiss her mouth slowly. “You’re fucking gorgeous, Rose Tyler.”

“Only two more weeks and you won’t be able to call me that anymore,” she said, smiling up at him with bright eyes. 

He beamed down at her. “Two more weeks. I can’t fucking wait.”

Rose hummed, smiling, and stretched under him luxuriously, making his cock slide a little. He gasped from the sensation and she bit her lip, her eyes twinkling up at him. “You alright there, handsome?”

Ian smirked down at her. “You’re awful, you know that?” She giggled and he kissed her again. When he broke the kiss, he took a moment to look at her, taking in the damage that he’d done to her appearance. “I made a mess of you.”

She gave a low chuckle and rolled her hips a bit, making him slide in and out - and suck in another harsh breath. “You sure did.”

“Awful. Just terrible.”

Rose bit her lip again and her eyes were shining a little. “I love you, Ian. So much.”

He softened. “I love you, too.”

“Confession: I don’t particularly want to go out tonight. I’d rather stay home with you.”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “You’re going to have an amazing time, sweetheart. You’re going to dance the night away. Just make sure you remember me while you’re there.”

She dragged her fingernails through his hair. “I won’t be thinking of anyone else, handsome. I never do.”

He kissed her then, a slow, soft thing, letting the hand that wasn’t propping him up caress her lovingly. Rose held him close to her, even when he tried to roll them over. He’d been softening, but the way she was grinding herself against him where he was still buried in her, sliding her body against his, had him --

_Ding-dong!_

Both of them froze mid-kiss, eyes wide and staring at each other. “Shit!” Ian burst out, dropping one last quick, hard kiss to her lips before clambering out of and off of her. “Shit!”

“Shit!” Rose echoed him, scrambling. “Oh, God, you said I’m a mess!”

She was. Her hair was in disarray, her makeup was smeared, and her dress was wrinkled, balled up around her waist. He hurriedly tucked himself back into his trousers as the doorbell rang again. 

“That’ll be Clara ringing the bell,” he muttered, zipping himself up. “Bloody menace.” Rose was looking around for something to clean herself up with and Ian grabbed a washcloth from the bathroom, tossing it to her. “I’ll go downstairs and deal with them. You just get yourself together.”

“Thank you,” she told him, smiling up at him, looking thoroughly debauched. 

Ian kissed her again. “You’re welcome. Take all the time you need. See you downstairs.”

The doorbell rang two more times between the bedroom and the foyer, and Ian silently prayed it wouldn’t wake the baby. He heard female giggling on the other side of the door before he even got there and suspected the ladies had likely already been into the booze. If he hadn’t been so annoyed with being interrupted, he’d have grinned. He did his best, though, to affect a pleasant look when he opened the door, which he did, just as the doorbell rang yet again, irritating him. 

“Bloody hell,” he complained when he threw the door open. “Don’t you lot know there’s a baby in the house?”

“Oh, shit, didn’t think about that,” Clara giggled, confirming Ian’s suspicion that she’d already been partying. 

Osgood looked at him, amused. “Um, Ian, you have a little…” She brushed her fingertip along the side of her mouth and he just stared at her blankly, not cottoning on. 

“What?”

“Rose is wearing red lipstick, I see,” Bill said with a knowing smirk and Ian’s eyes widened. He left them standing at the door while he rushed to the mirror in the foyer. 

“I take it we interrupted?” Clara said in a cloyingly sweet tone while Ian tried to wipe away the lip prints on his neck. 

“Tardiness would have been fucking preferable,” he grumbled. 

The girls giggled and Ian sighed. 

Rose descended the stairs then, catching everyone’s attention, smiling beatifically while Martha hummed ‘Here Comes the Bride’. She looked entirely too put together for what they’d just done and Ian was almost a little insulted that she wasn’t more debauched. 

“Blimey,” Bill marveled. “You look amazing, Rose.”

She flushed becomingly under the praise. “Thank you.”

“Your dress is a bit wrinkled,” Clara crowed, and Ian and Rose shot a look at each other. He felt his cheeks heat. 

“You look gorgeous, sweetheart,” he said, coming forward to help her down the last step and kiss her sweetly. He was only able to hold her a moment, however, before Osgood interrupted. 

“Yes, Rose, you look lovely, but something’s missing… A-HA!” She pulled out a white sash trimmed with lace that said “Bride” and draped it over a laughing Rose’s shoulder. Anna was just behind her, putting a tiara on her head. 

“What’s all this?”

“You’re the bride, it’s your special night. Everyone should know that you’re celebrating your marriage.”

“You lot,” she started, but just shook her head with a smile, not finishing her admonition. 

“Go,” he said, squeezing her hand. “Have fun. It’s your night.”

“She’s in good hands, Doctor,” Clara assured him, putting her own arm around Rose and starting to escort her towards the door. Bill joined in on Rose’s other side and the escorting nearly became a frog march. 

He felt a hand on his arm and looked up to see Osgood giving him a kind look. “She’ll be fine. I won’t let anything happen to her.”

“I know you won’t,” he smiled. “Thank you.”

“No problem.”

“You coming, Osgood?” Clara called over her shoulder as she pushed Rose down the front steps towards the waiting car. Ian was just barely able to see Rose turn and wave to him before Clara and Bill practically folded her into the backseat of the car and shut the door. Clara turned around and gave Ian a snappy salute. “Don’t wait up, Doctor! And you’ve still got lipstick on your neck.”

Ian clapped a hand over his neck self consciously as Clara laughed, then stood there on his front porch to wave goodbye to the car as it pulled away.


	107. Chapter 107

25 November 2012

Ian woke up as he always did, reaching for Rose, but his questing hands found nothing. Her absence jolted him and he sat up, looking around the room, alarmed. There was the smell of bacon wafting into the room from somewhere, and on the bathroom door hung his Prince Charlie jacket, sark, and kilt. 

Bloody hell, it was his wedding day. 

Without waiting another second, he reached for his mobile and sent a message to his sweetheart. 

~Ian: _Today’s the day!_  
~Rose: _I know! Fucking finally!_

He laughed at her cheek and typed some more. 

~Ian: _I miss you. hate waking up without you._  
~Rose: _miss you, too. after this evening, you’ll always wake up next to your wife._

He sighed happily. She was right. He’d always wake up next to his wife from this day forward. 

~Ian: _how’s the baby?_  
~Rose: _lapping up all the attention._  
~Ian: _I’ll bet so. miss her, too_  
~Rose: _she’ll be there soon. feeling alright?_  
~Ian: _top of the world. why?_  
~Rose: _glad you didn’t have your stag night last night?_  
~Ian: _so fucking glad._

He looked over at the clock on the bedside table, checking the time. 8:07. He had to be at the church for pictures in eight hours. They’d be married in nine hours. Fuck. What was he going to do with the time?

The smell of breakfast was getting stronger and he decided to get up and start the best day of his life. Electing to shower later, closer to time for him to get dressed for the wedding, he threw on some clothes and went downstairs, emerging in the kitchen to find Auntie hard at work at his cooker. 

“Good morning, Auntie.”

“Ian,” she smiled. “I wondered when you’d be up. How’d you sleep?”

“Fine,” he told her, going to the coffee pot and getting a cup started. “Where’s Fergus?”

“I’m here,” came his brother’s voice as he bounded down the stairs, full of energy like a puppy. “Slept a bit late today.”

“I did, too,” Ian admitted, taking a sip of his coffee. “Eleanor usually serves as our alarm clock on the weekends.”

“I still wish you lot would have kept her here last night, instead of at the mansion in all that hubbub,” his aunt griped. 

“It’s alright, Auntie,” he attempted to soothe her, despite wishing the same thing. “She’ll be fine, I promise.”

“Besides,” Fergus offered, “I’m going to pick her up and deliver Ian’s gift just after lunch, so you don’t have long to wait without her. You’re welcome to ride with me, Mam.”

“No, ta,” Auntie said airily, going back to the bacon. “It’s best I stay with Ian. His nerves are likely to get the better of him, otherwise.”

Ian grinned. “Except I’m not nervous, Auntie. This is the best day of my life - aside from the day Eleanor was born.”

“Nonetheless, I’ll be staying with you. Now, here,” she said, plating the food and handing platters to himself and Fergus. “You lot eat up. We’ve got a busy day today.”

Despite Auntie’s admonition, the hours crawled.

~Ian: _Fergus won’t stop yammering_  
~Rose: _about what?_  
~Ian: _god only knows. I’m doing my best to ignore him_  
~Rose: _Mum keeps staring at me every time I get a text_  
~Rose: _“honestly, Rose, you’re going to be marrying him tonight, do you need to talk to him all day, too?”_  
~Ian: _that sounds like her_  
~Ian: _time is crawling_  
~Rose: _here, too._  
~Rose: _Oh! That reminds me. I have a gift for you._  
~Ian: _Yeah?_  
~Rose: _Bottom of my knicker drawer, all the way in the back._  
~Ian: _That sounds promising_  
~Rose: _;)_

Ian made his way upstairs and pulled open Rose’s knicker drawer. He pushed the bits of silk and lace around for a moment before shoving his hand in as far as it would go and feeling around. His fingertips brushed something hard and, assuming he’d found it, he grasped the object: a small box. It was wrapped in blue paper striped with gold. A small envelope was attached to it with his name in Rose’s looping handwriting, tucked under a shiny gold bow. Ian never took his eyes off of it when he went to sit on the edge of his bed and open it. 

Pulling the envelope open, he read, _Dear Ian: See you at 5, handsome. I’ll be the one in the white dress. I love you xx_

Impulsively, he brought the note up to his nose and sniffed - sure enough, it carried the light scent of her. He smiled, then unwrapped the box. It was walnut and highly polished, inlaid with gold. Curious, Ian opened it. Inside was a watch, square-faced and set in rose gold. The strap looked to be some sort of fine leather, alligator, perhaps, and it was exactly what he’d have picked out for himself. A heart-shaped scrap of paper fell out of the box into his hand. He smiled when he read it. _Don’t be late! ~Rose xx_

He pulled the watch from the box and undid the clasp then put it on his wrist. It was a perfect fit. Smiling, he closed the box and left it on the bed, going downstairs to show off his gift to his Auntie and Fergus. 

Once again, time took to crawling. Fergus put the telly on a football match while Auntie knitted something for Eleanor, and Ian did his best to get interested in the game. But his interest was mostly in his new watch and how slowly the hands seemed to be moving. 

“Are you going to shave?” Auntie asked for what seemed like the fifth time since she’d arrived the day before, breaking into his thoughts.

Ian ran a hand across his cheek and scratched the several days’ worth of stubble that had taken up permanent residence there. As much as he knew Rose loved his scruff, he wanted to be clean shaven for the pictures. He could always grow it back later. “Yes, Auntie,” he finally admitted.

“Good,” she said, sounding satisfied. He tried not to sigh. 

Instead, he focused his attention on Fergus. “Have you got the rings?”

“‘Course I do,” his cousin scoffed, not looking away from the telly. “You don’t honestly think I’d lose them, do you?”

“You might,” Ian said darkly. “And then I’d be forced to kill you.”

“No battles to the death on your wedding day,” Auntie admonished without looking up. 

Ian and Fergus both ignored her. “I’ve got them. Don’t worry about it,” Fergus assured him. 

They fell into quiet again, only the telly breaking up the silence, and Ian did his best to be patient. Finally, after eons of waiting, the time for Fergus to leave rolled around. 

“You have to go. They’re expecting you to pick up Eleanor in twenty minutes.”

Fergus looked up at the clock. “Blimey, you’re right. Time flies when you’re having fun, eh?”

Ian rolled his eyes, then got to his feet and followed Fergus into the kitchen to get his keys. “Here’s Rose’s gift. Make sure you put it directly into her hands, alright?”

“You worry too much, bampot,” Fergus brushed him off. “I know how to deliver a gift.”

“But you’ll also have my daughter in the car. You’ll be extraordinarily careful with her, won’t you?”

“Ian, I’d rather die than let anything happen to that bairn. She’ll be fine in my care. I promise.”

He did his best to accept his cousin’s words. “I know that. There’s no one else in the world I would trust to do what you’re doing today. Can’t help but worry, though. This is my baby we’re talking about.”

“I know, bampot.”

“Hurry back, but don’t drive too fast.”

“I’m going to hurry my way out of this house before you nag me into a coma,” Fergus teased. He kissed Auntie’s cheek then waved at Ian, Rose’s gift in his hand, and left. 

Ian watched him pull down the long driveway, irritated that he couldn’t go himself, counting the minutes until his cousin got back. He shouldn’t be gone more than half an hour or so. Ian could wait. Fergus honked the horn as he turned onto the street and out of view and Ian waved. 

“Now,” Auntie said, once Ian turned back around. “Go shower. Once Eleanor gets back, things will start moving quickly.”

He wasn’t entirely sure that that was true - there still several hours to kill before he had to be at the church - but Eleanor would fill the time nicely. She’d be a lovely distraction that kept him from going barmy. 

“Yes, Auntie,” he said, starting up the stairs.

“And don’t forget to shave!”

Ian gathered clothes to change into after his shower and took them into the bathroom. Once there, he stood at the mirror for a few minutes, looking at himself, reflecting. Then, with a sigh, he started to shave. As he did, he took a minute to take in his appearance. Not bad for a bloke of forty-six, he thought. He’d never thought of himself as especially attractive, but if Rose saw it, there must be something there worth looking at. His face finally clean shaven, he splashed water on it to get rid of any excess foam and turned this way and that, looking at himself. 

If it were possible, he thought he looked younger than he had a year ago, when he met Rose. Something about him looked lighter, more at ease, and he knew it was entirely because of his fiancee and daughter. This last year had been the most eventful of his life, but by far the most joyful. He smiled more now than he ever had before, and the laugh lines beside his eyes were more pronounced. That was alright, though. Rose liked them, had commented on them, and while they might have bothered him a year ago, he found that they didn’t trouble him now. 

_Nothing_ troubled him just now. He was marrying the love of his life in… he checked his new watch. Four and a half hours. Fergus would be back with the baby soon. Deciding he’d lollygagged enough, he went to the shower and stepped into the stall.

~*~O~*~

“Rose!” Jackie called from the foyer. “Graham is here!”

Rose scooped up the baby and went out to meet her soon-to-be brother-in-law in the foyer, smiling brightly. “Fergus!” she teased. “I wasn’t expecting you for at least another half hour, but you’re right on time.”

“You wound me, Birdie,” he replied, putting his hand over his heart to indicate how deeply she’d hurt him. Then he smiled brightly. “I come bearing gifts.”

She handed over the baby and took the small, square box that Fergus offered her. It was wrapped in silver and white paper with a silver bow on top and a note in Ian’s handwriting. 

“Well, what is it?” Jackie prodded, impatient. 

Rose ignored her. “Come into the lounge for a minute, Fergus, and have a seat. We don’t have anywhere to be for a little while and we’re still waiting on Osgood.”

Fergus followed Rose into the lounge, carrying a happy Eleanor, and Jackie followed the lot of them. “Well?” she challenged Rose. “Are you going to open it or not?”

“Blimey, Mum, it’s my gift, not yours,” she complained. “What if it’s ...personal?”

“It’s not. If it was, he’d have had me tell you to open it while you’re alone. You can go on and open it,” Fergus encouraged her, pulling his head back and away from the baby, doing his best to keep Eleanor’s fingers out of his mouth. 

“Yeah?”

“He didn’t say so, but I think he wanted me to be able to tell him how you reacted.”

“Do you know what it is?” she asked him with a raised eyebrow.

He just smirked. “Open it, Birdie.”

Rose sat down on the couch with the small box and pulled off the envelope, then pulled out the note. In Ian’s scrawl, she read, _Sweetheart, I saw this and it was so beautiful, it made me think of you. It could never compare, though. I love you so much. Can’t wait to marry you. Ian._

“Well?” Jackie prodded, irritating Rose just a bit. 

She didn’t answer, just started unwrapping the package carefully. Her mother complained about how she was supposed to rip the paper, not unfold it, but Rose didn’t care. This gift felt precious, somehow, and she knew that whatever was inside would be something she treasured for the rest of her life. It was a gift from her husband on her wedding day. 

Once the paper was gone, she held the small, square box in her hand, biting her lip. With one last look up at Fergus and her mother, she opened the lid.

And was greeted with the sight of the most beautiful necklace she’d ever seen. It was simple - just a solitaire diamond on a gold chain - but the emerald-cut diamond was was bigger than anything she’d have ever dared to look at in a store. She gasped, covering her mouth with her free hand, and tears pricked her eyes. 

“Oh, Ian,” she cooed, even though he wasn’t there to hear her. “I love it so much.”

“You do?” Fergus asked, beaming. 

With Ian not there to accept her huge hug of thanks, she threw her arms around him instead. “It’s absolutely gorgeous, Fergus. Tell him he did a brilliant job.”

“Here, love,” Jackie said softly, her own eyes wet. “Let me help you put it on.”

Rose pulled the necklace out of the box, noticing the way it sparkled and caught the light, fighting back tears. She handed the necklace to her mother and turned her back, pulling her hair up. Once her mother had it fastened, she let her hair drop and covered the stone with her hand, touching it to be sure it was real. 

“I don’t know what to say…” she sniffled. 

“Just promise me you’re going to show up at the church in a few hours to marry my bampot cousin.”

Rose laughed. “There’s no need to worry about that. I’ll be there.”

“Good,” Fergus said, getting to his feet and dropping a kiss on Rose’s cheek. “Now, say goodbye to Ellie for a few hours. Her da is dying to get his hands on her.”

Rose laughed. “I just bet he is. How is he today? Is he nervous?”

“Doesn’t seem to be at all. He’s been complaining all day about not being able to see you and how slow time is moving.”

“I empathize completely.”

Rose took Eleanor into her arms for a minute, cuddling her close, telling her goodbye. After a firm admonition to Fergus to drive safely and to Eleanor to behave for Uncle Fergus, she stood on the front porch, waving, and watched as he drove away in Ian’s SUV.

She hadn’t even had time to go inside when she spotted Osgood’s older model Toyota rambling up the driveway - she and Fergus must have passed each other on the street. She parked, and Rose was amused to see that her friend wasn’t wearing her glasses today, she’d put in contacts. Other than that, her nerdy outfit was the same as always, but she carried a garment bag.

“You just missed Fergus,” she informed Osgood with a smile. “I can’t wait for you to meet him.”

“I’ll be glad to meet him, too, since I’ve heard so much about him,” Osgood said with a smile - but there was something guarded in her eyes that Rose couldn’t place. Before she could remark on it, Osgood said, “I hope I’m not late.”

Rose opened the door to let them into the mansion, which was blustering with activity. “No, you’re just in time. Fergus brought my gift from Ian and took Eleanor back to stay with her daddy until time for the wedding. I miss her already.”

Osgood smiled gently and put her hand on Rose’s arm. “We’ll keep you plenty busy, don’t worry. What did Ian get you?”

Rose felt a thrill of excitement when she pointed to her necklace. “Blimey,” Osgood marveled. “That thing’ll blind someone.”

“I’ve never seen a diamond this big in real life,” Rose gushed. “I feel so ostentatious.”

“Don’t. It’s gorgeous and a perfect token of love from your bloke to you.”

Rose melted a little. It really was. She couldn’t wait to thank him for it later. 

“Where should I hang my dress?” Osgood asked, indicating the garment bag. 

“Oh! Right in here,” Rose said, leading her up to her bedroom. “Mum disappeared, but I’m sure she’ll be nagging us to leave for the salon before long.”

Osgood grinned. “Let’s not keep her waiting, then.”

Rose agreed. “No, let’s not.”

~*~O~*~

~Rose: _I love it. It’s too much._  
~Ian: _no, it isn’t. It could never be enough for you_  
~Rose: _I love you_  
~Ian: _I love you, too._  
~Rose: _Fergus and Eleanor make it alright?_  
~Ian: _just fine. Auntie is feeding the baby, then I’m putting her down for a nap_  
~Rose: _she’s going to need it. Busy night ahead for her._  
~Ian: _yep_  
~Ian: _Have your flowers arrived yet?_  
~Rose: _the house is full of flowers_  
~Ian: _not those, I mean yours_  
~Rose: _my bouquet? not yet. I’m dying to see it._  
~Ian: _text me when you get it. want to explain something to you_  
~Rose: _okay_  
~Ian: _only three more hours_  
~Rose: _I can’t wait_

“Blimey, Rose, you might as well have that thing sewn to your hand, the way you’re always on it.”

Rose just sniffed, smiling. “Can’t help it. That’s what you get for keeping us apart for an entire day before we get married.”

Jackie rolled her eyes. “You say that, but I know good and well that you keep that thing in your hand just about any time he’s not with you.”

She didn’t deny it. Couldn’t. Thankfully, the hairdresser spoke to Rose to get her attention, making her hold her head a bit straighter. From the corner of her eye, she saw Osgood in another chair, also getting her hair styled.

“I love your hair down like that,” Rose commented. 

“Thank you,” Osgood smiled. “I like it down, too, but it’s much easier to deal with in a ponytail.”

“I imagine so, at the center.”

“You look lovely,” Jackie assured her. “And Rose…”

The stylist sprayed Rose’s hair all over with hairspray, setting the style. Then she grabbed a mirror and turned Rose around so she could see it. “Do you like it?”

“I love it,” Rose breathed, turning her head this way and that, admiring her hairstyle. “It’s so elegant.”

“It’s very becoming, dear,” Jackie told her, and Rose had to agree. It was very flattering to her face. 

An hour later, after all three women’s makeup had been professionally applied, they arrived at the mansion, ready to get dressed for the pictures. Rose made her way upstairs along with her mum and Osgood and the two women started helping Rose into the gown she’d had made. Once she was decent - but not yet fully dressed - the photographer was allowed inside the room while Jackie and Osgood did up the scads of buttons and zips. Rose was dying to see herself, dying to know what she looked like, and finally the women guided Rose to step over to the full-length mirror. As soon as she got a glimpse of herself, Rose started to cry. 

“It’s happening,” she said, beaming, tears teetering on her lower lids. “It’s all really happening.”

“It is,” Jackie agreed, coming to the rescue with a tissue. “And you best get yourself together, or you’ll ruin your makeup.”

“Yes, Mum,” Rose sighed. 

Just then, a knock came at the door. “Ma’am,” one of the maids said, poking her head in, “the florist was just here and delivered this.” She held up a large white box in both hands and Rose was too slow to get to it. Osgood accepted the box with thanks and brought it to her. 

Very gingerly, Rose sat down on one of the brocade chairs, careful not to wrinkle her dress, and pulled the box into her lap. She pulled the top off and gasped when she saw what was inside. 

It was dazzling. Roses in her wedding colors of burgundy and blush made a round bouquet, but there were also sparkling accessories pinned here and there, catching and scattering the light. Rose picked it up delicately, looking at it in awe, and enjoying the coos of her mother and Osgood. It was absolutely the most beautiful bouquet Rose had ever seen. Ian had outdone himself. 

As soon as she was sure she wasn’t going to cry and ruin her makeup, she handed the bouquet to her mother and texted Ian. 

~Rose: _this bouquet is gorgeous! did you design it yourself_  
~Ian: _I stole the idea from one of your magazines. Those are my mother’s brooches. I feel sure she’d have wanted you to have them_

She couldn’t help it, tears spilled over at that knowledge. 

~Ian: _there’s also a sprig of white heather hidden in there for luck. Scottish tradition_  
~Rose: _I love you so much. Thank you_  
~Ian: _I love you, too._

She posed for a couple of pictures still in her room while her mum adjusted her veil, then a photo of her mum and dad each kissing a cheek, then her phone went off on the table. Ignoring her mother’s dirty look, she went to get it.

~Ian: _Auntie made me shave. I just wanted you to know so you didn’t marry some fucker with a beard at the wedding_  
~Rose: _no need to worry about that. I won’t be marrying anyone but you, handsome_  
~Ian: _good._  
~Rose: _you’re still wearing a waistcoat, right? I love you in a waistcoat_  
~Ian: _whatever my bride wants. I’m on the fence about my glasses, though_

Rose bit her lip and grinned, thinking of how much she loved the way he looked in his glasses. 

~Rose: _it’s up to you, but if you wear your glasses, be prepared. I may not be able to wait until tonight, might jump your bones in front of all our family and friends._  
~Ian: _good to know. See you in ninety minutes_  
~Ian: _I’ll be the bloke in a waistcoat and glasses_

Rose laughed, happier than she could ever remember being. 

~Rose: _see you then_


	108. Chapter 108

25 November 2012 (cont.)

Ian stood in the dressing room at the church with Fergus and Eleanor, wondering idly how Rose would react to him in a kilt, waiting for things to get started. The photographers had been darting in and out, capturing moments, and he was glad for the relative calm. Eleanor sat on a blanket on the ground, mouthing a rattle. She was wearing a white dress, formal and lacy, with a large headband around her head, sporting a white flower with a pearl center. Ian had earned the wrath of Jackie earlier in the week by calling it a garter, but Rose had just snickered when he did so. Then she’d whispered in his ear that she had a garter that was all for him, and his mind had broken. 

Fergus stood in front of the mirror in the corner of the room grooming, adjusting his lapels and tucking non-existent stray hairs behind his ear. 

“Why the hell are you preening like that, you prat?” Ian demanded.

His cousin just shrugged. "Might meet a bridesmaid. You never know."

"Her ‘bridesmaid’ is a six-foot-tall man, you tit. I swear to God if you're on the pull at my wedding..."

"Ah, be generous, Ian! You'll be having a good time on your wedding night. Shouldn't your favorite cousin?"

Ian opened his mouth to retort, but there was a brief knock at the door and it swung open, admitting Auntie. She looked lovely, he thought, clad in a burgundy dress that swung freely around her ankles. It was trimmed with satin, and she’d obviously made a trip to the milliner to have a hat custom made to match her gown. 

“Oh, Ian,” she said, clasping her hands together in front of herself, her eyes watering. “You look so handsome.”

He looked down at himself, checking for the hundredth time that he had everything in place, then looked back up at her. “Yeah?”

“I’m just so proud, son.”

“You look lovely too, Auntie,” he started, then pretended to think for a second. “Something’s missing.”

Auntie looked a bit alarmed and started patting herself, checking for her jewelry, her purse, to make sure the front of the gown was straight. “What?”

“This,” Ian said simply, then went over to the table beside the mirror and picked up the burgundy and pink corsage. He took it over to his Auntie and very carefully pinned it to her dress. “There. You were missing your corsage as mother of the groom.”

Her eyes were sparkling. “I’m not --”

“You _are_ ,” he insisted. “You raised me, Auntie. Just because I never called you ‘Mam’ doesn’t mean you didn’t do the job.” Big, crystal tears spilled from Auntie’s eyes and he pulled her into a hug. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Ian,” she sniffled, then pulled away and fished out a handkerchief she’d had tucked into her sleeve. “I knew I’d need this, but never thought I’d need it so soon!”

Ian just grinned. Eleanor cooed, apparently unhappy that the attention wasn’t on her, and Fergus bent down to scoop her up. “You’re just in time, Mam,” he said, smiling. “Ian was just telling me that I’m not allowed to flirt with any of the eligible females that are bound to be at this wedding. Tell him he’s being unreasonable.”

“I did not and I am not! I just said you’re not allowed to be on the pull. It’s a wedding, not a meat market.”

“Graham Fergus Fitzgerald, you had best not shame me at your own brother’s wedding,” she warned him, her voice dire. Ian was smug for just a moment before she turned to him. “And _you_. Don’t worry about him and what he gets up to. You’re going to be entirely too distracted to worry about what your brother is doing,” Auntie told Ian. “I dare say your new bride is going to take up all of your attention.”

“Have you seen her?” he asked, excited.

“I have. I just left her. She looks gorgeous, Ian. The most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen.”

Ian beamed, thrilled and proud, and Fergus caught his attention. “Think I’ll go greet a few guests,” he suggested, putting Eleanor on his hip. “Leave you two to talk.”

“You don’t have to --”

“Thank you, son,” Auntie said serenely, and the matter was settled. Fergus gave a wave, then left the room with the baby. Auntie turned back to him. 

“Your father and uncle aren’t here to give you fatherly advice, so it falls to me, I’m afraid. And I don’t have much to tell you except to say _listen_.”

“Listen?”

“Yes, _listen._ Your wife needs you to hear what she says, not just let it in one ear and out the other. And, from a woman’s perspective, there will be times she may know exactly what she wants to tell you, but the words won’t come. It’s your job to listen as best you can and figure that out.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You also need to do your best to talk _to_ her, not _at_ her, so she can understand _you_. Happy marriages happen when two people are able to completely, openly communicate with each other. If you don’t understand each other, there will never be peace.”

Ian thought back briefly to the row about the pictures. How it all could have been avoided if he’d just listened. He didn’t dwell long, though, he just nodded. “Yes, Auntie.”

Auntie straightened Ian’s lapels idly. “You really do look handsome, Ian. And I know, as sure as I know my name, that your mam, da, and uncle are all smiling down on you today, as proud as I am.”

Ian’s lip quibbled a little but he fought it back. “Thank you, Auntie.”

There was another knock at the door then, and Ian was simultaneously grateful and sorry for the interruption. He cleared his throat a bit, then called out, “Yeah?”

Pete came in, wearing a tuxedo, smiling. “Thought I’d come say hello before the festivities get started.”

Auntie patted Ian’s cheek. “I’ll let you two chat for a minute, and go check on Graham.”

“Alright. Send him back this way, if you see him. I need the baby. It’s almost time.”

“Will do.”

“And Auntie?” he started, grabbing her hand before she left. Auntie turned around, her eyes wide and expectant. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure, son. Now, go marry that girl.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Auntie let herself out and Ian was left alone with Pete. “Bloody hell,” he complained, still choking back tears.

“You alright?”

“I’m fine. I just had no idea this would be so emotional.”

“Well, it’s the biggest day of your life. Of course it’s emotional.”

Ian just nodded, rapidly gaining control of himself. “You wanted to speak to me?”

“Well,” Pete began, “it’s traditional for the father of the bride to give a lecture to the groom, I think, but we’re a bit unique. I have absolutely no fear that you’re going to hurt my baby girl.”

He scoffed. “I’m sure she’ll still think I’m an arsehole sometimes.”

“And I’m sure you’ll _be_ an arsehole sometimes. You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t. But I don’t have the worry that most fathers of the bride have: I trust you implicitly.”

He felt that lump in his throat again. “Thank you. I’ll never let her down.”

Pete’s eyes twinkled. “Good, because if you do, I’ll be forced to beat you to death with a pool cue.”

Ian laughed. “Consider me properly warned.”

Pete checked his watch. “It’s about that time. The minister should be coming to get you soon, and I need to get back to Rose.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, not really paying much attention, looking towards the door when it opened to admit Fergus and Eleanor. 

“Ian,” Fergus started, visibly excited. “I’ve just seen the most beautiful woman I’ve ever clapped eyes on. She’s stunning.”

“Rose?”

“No,” Fergus said, shaking his head, seeming a little dazed. “Not Rose. A guest, I think.”

“She’s probably married,” Ian deadpanned, reaching to take Eleanor. 

“No, I didn’t see a ring, and she wasn’t with anyone. Bloody hell, Ian, I think I’m in love.”

“Did you talk to her?” Pete asked, incredulous.

Fergus shook his head again. “She stole my words. I didn’t know what to say.”

Ian blinked. “That’s not like you.”

“I’m telling you, I’m in love.”

Pete checked his watch again. “I really do need to go. See you in a few minutes.” He leaned forward to kiss Eleanor’s forehead and she tried to grab his ears. “Papa will see you in a few minutes, Peanut. Save a dance for me. And you,” he said, clapping Ian on his free shoulder. “Good luck.”

“Thanks. Tell Rose I love her.”

Pete’s eyes twinkled. “Tell her yourself in five minutes.”

~*~O~*~

Ian took his place at the front of the church, holding Eleanor, standing just beside the minister. Eleanor was unconcerned with the large crowd and much more interested in reaching for her father’s glasses. Ian barely noticed her attempts - he was entirely too excited about what was about to happen. The love of his life was about to step out from the back of the church and profess her undying love for him.

Looking out over the crowd, he spotted tons of familiar faces, but some were unknown to him. There were more people than he’d expected, and figured Jackie had finally gotten her way and invited more people. No matter. It seemed like such a trivial thing, now.

The doors at the back of the church opened and Ian smiled when he saw Fergus step out, escorting Auntie. He led her to her seat, kissed her cheek, then came up to stand beside Ian. Eleanor greeted her uncle with a loud coo that earned a little laugh from the people near enough to hear it. Ian felt ready, now that his brother was beside him.

Once Auntie was seated, Mickey stepped out of the back of the church, escorting Jackie. She was clearly in her element, dressed in a soft pink evening gown and smiling beatifically, the mother of the bride. She allowed herself to be led to her seat, kissed Mickey on the cheek quickly, then took her place. Mickey came up to the front of the church to stand on the other side of the minister, waiting for Rose. 

The rear doors had closed again and Ian turned dutifully around as tradition demanded, putting his back to the door. He was suddenly, overwhelmingly nervous. Now was the moment. What if Rose backed out? What if she decided that she didn’t want to link her life to his forever? 

The music changed again and he heard the scuffling sounds of everyone getting to their feet. The doors opened and Ian took a deep breath. 

“Bloody hell,” Fergus murmured from beside him. “Wait til you see her.”

Ian could hardly stand it. Everything in him wanted to turn around right then, but he closed his eyes for a moment and forced himself to wait. He wasn’t helped by Eleanor peering over his shoulder, then getting excited and squealing, smacking his shoulder repeatedly when she recognized Mummy. 

Finally - _finally_ \- the music quieted and the minister began his sermon. 

“Dearly beloved, we have gathered here today to join this man, Dr. Ian Docherty, and this woman, Miss Rose Tyler, in holy matrimony. This is not a state to be taken lightly, nor without due consideration, but should be entered reverently, solemnly, with eyes wide open. Love, it’s not an emotion. Love is a promise: and it’s a promise that Ian and Rose have chosen to make to each other. In good faith and with hopeful hearts, they present themselves this day to be united. If there is anyone here who can show just cause why these two should not be married, let him speak now or forever hold his peace.”

Ian held his breath, terrified that someone may say something, but there was not a peep from the audience. As practiced, the minister gave Ian a discreet nod and he turned to hand the baby to Fergus, kissing her hair before he let her go. Once he was facing forward again, the minister said, “Who now presents this woman to be joined in marriage?”

“Her mother and I do.”

It was Ian’s cue. He turned to face Rose and take her hand from Pete. He couldn’t see right away because Pete was lifting Rose’s veil and kissing her cheek. When Pete moved aside and he saw her, he lost his breath. 

She fairly glowed - that was the first thing he noticed. Her face was absolutely radiant with joy, and he empathized. The same joy was coursing through his veins. Her hair was pulled back and away from her face in some sort of complicated chignon that was absolutely elegant. A billowing white veil surrounded her, making her look nearly angelic. Her arms were covered in embroidered lace sleeves, and it seemed that same lace covered the bodice of her gown. Most of her full skirt was a sheer, shimmering material, until the embroidery started again below her knees. There was a fair amount of cleavage showing, but he barely noticed. She was absolutely the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in his life. 

“You are so fucking gorgeous,” he murmured to her, then flushed when the people near enough to hear chuckled.

“I love you,” she mouthed, and he did his best not to kiss her right then. 

“I love you,” he mouthed in return.

The minister spoke some more, talking about the sanctity of marriage and the purity of what they were doing, but Ian couldn’t concentrate. His attention was firmly fixed on Rose. She seemed to be in the same boat, looking up at him with sparkling eyes, and he marveled at the moment he found himself in. Never, in all his life, would he have imagined himself here, pledging himself to this woman, his daughter cooing and babbling behind him in his brother’s arms. He never would have hoped for it, because he never dreamed it was possible. Yet it was happening. 

“Ian and Rose have elected to write vows to each other as well as speak the traditional vows. Ian?” the minister said, letting him know it was his time. He nodded, then turned back to Rose. 

“Sweetheart, everything shifted for me the moment I laid eyes on you, and nothing has ever been the same since. I knew from the first time we talked that you were something special, but I had no idea just how much you would change my life for the better. To my mind, I’ll never be good enough for you, but I’m grateful every moment of my life that you disagree and say I am. I promise to love you every single second for as long as I live. I promise to do everything in my power to make you happy. I promise to cherish you, to lift you up, to provide for you, to be your everything - just as you’ve been my everything. I love you, Rose, and all I want for the rest of my life is you. Thank you for choosing me.”

Rose sniffled, and he let go of one of her hands long enough to reach up and brush away a tear, smiling at her. He wanted to kiss her, he wanted to kiss her so badly, but it wasn’t quite time yet. He could wait. 

“Rose?” the minister prompted. She gave him a quick look and a nod, then turned back to Ian. 

“Ian, I don’t know what I could ever possibly say that could convey the depth of my love for you. The words I have simply aren’t good enough. Over the last year or so, I’ve come to know one thing as absolute truth - no matter what happens to me or around me, you’ll be there holding my hand and loving me. You’ve made me happier than I ever thought possible, and I thank you, from the bottom of my heart. I promise to be there for you in the same way. I promise to love you, support you, cheer you on, cry with you, and celebrate life’s victories with you. I promise to do my absolute best to be everything you could ever want or need. I promise to be yours, forever. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he answered, wiping his eyes hurriedly, beaming at her.

“Do you have the rings?” the minister asked Fergus and Mickey. Both men produced rings and the minister laid them on the prayer book, speaking to the audience a bit about the symbolism of a circle that has no beginning or end. Finally, he instructed Ian to take Rose’s ring and place it on her finger. 

“Do you, Ian Docherty, take this woman, Rose Tyler, to be to be your wedded wife, to cherish in love and in friendship, in strength and in weakness, in success and in disappointment, to love her faithfully, today, tomorrow, and for as long as the two of you shall live?”

“I do,” he said, feeling like his heart were going to beat out of his chest. Rose squeezed his hand and he squeezed back. Rose took his ring and slid it onto his finger.

“Do you, Rose Tyler, take this man, Ian Docherty, to be to be your wedded husband, to cherish in love and in friendship, in strength and in weakness, in success and in disappointment, to love him faithfully, today, tomorrow, and for as long as the two of you shall live?”

“I absolutely do,” Rose enthused, making everyone in the building laugh a little. 

“It is with the power vested in me by the Church of England and a great sense of joy that I pronounce you man and wife. Ian, you may kiss your bride.”

Ian didn’t hesitate, and neither did Rose. Their arms went around each other at the same moment their lips met and he kissed her with complete abandon, utterly forgetting they had an audience, sealing the promises he’d just made and feeling his heart would burst with love.


	109. Chapter 109

25 November 2012 (cont.)

“Ladies and gentlemen, it is my great pleasure to be the first to introduce to you… Dr. and Mrs. Ian Docherty!”

Ian and Rose turned to face the applauding crowd, their hands joined, both of them laughing. Rose took her bouquet back from Mickey and Ian accepted Eleanor. The three of them stood there in the front of the church, the little Docherty family, and Ian couldn’t help it, he was absolutely compelled to kiss his wife again. 

His _wife_. 

Then the recessional played and they started down the aisle towards the back of the church. Rose’s hand in his and Eleanor’s weight in his arm anchored him to earth, otherwise, he may have floated away. 

For a while they stood in the church vestibule, accepting congratulations from the wedding guests as they passed through on their way to the reception. Once the majority of them were gone, the photographer came forward and started herding the wedding party in the direction of the altar again. 

Ian did his best to concentrate on what he was being told to do by the wedding photographer, but he kept getting distracted by his wife. She was so radiantly beautiful. And now she was _his._ All his, forever.

They took a ridiculous amount of pictures, in Ian’s opinion, in every possible arrangement of their new combined family imaginable, but finally it was time to drive to the mansion. Fergus and Auntie were going to take Eleanor in Ian’s SUV, but Henry stood at the curb beside the car, waiting for him and Rose. 

The driver opened the rear door when the newlyweds separated from Fergus and Auntie, then stretched out his hand when they got closer. “Ian.”

Bypassing the hand entirely, Ian leaned in and hugged the other man. When he pulled back, Henry tipped an imaginary hat at Rose, “Mrs. Docherty.”

Rose leaned in and kissed Henry on the cheek. “Thank you.”

“Henry,” Ian said as he helped Rose into the car, “take me and my bride to the Tyler mansion, please.”

“My pleasure, sir.”

Ian slid in beside Rose and immediately brought her in for a kiss, mindful not to ruin her hair or smudge her makeup too badly. His lips slid along hers tenderly, then they smiled against each other’s mouths. 

“We did it,” she murmured. 

“We did it,” he agreed. 

“You’re my husband now.”

He thought he may explode. “You bet your gorgeous little arse I am.”

Rose giggled and he kissed her lightly again. She reached for his hand and he went to twine their fingers, but she singled out his ring finger instead. He felt a warm gush of pride as he looked down on the gold band there. 

“I can’t believe you married me,” he marveled. “I can’t believe you chose me.”

“I did,” she agreed, twisting the band on his finger. “This looks good on you.”

“Glad you like it. I’m never taking it off.”

She gave him a puzzled look. “Not even for surgeries?”

“Not for anything. It’s a symbol of my commitment to you, sweetheart. That’s sacred to me.”

Her eyes sparkled a little. “I love you, Ian. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too, Mrs. Docherty.”

Rose giggled and he captured the sound between his lips. 

They were still kissing a few minutes later when Henry guided the car into the circle drive of Rose’s parents’ home. The mansion was completely lit up, inside and out. Henry drove them right up to the entrance then jumped out of the car and ran around to open the door for them. Ian stepped out and clapped Henry on the shoulder before reaching back in to offer his hand to Rose.

As she slid out of the car, Henry said something about moving it before he could join them inside, but Ian was focused entirely on the woman holding his hand. She looked more beautiful than he’d ever seen her, absolutely luminous, and he fought the urge to pinch himself, unable to believe his good fortune. 

They made their way inside and to the ballroom, pausing just outside the door to wait for the DJ to announce them. He squeezed her hand when the man introduced them again as Dr. and Mrs. Ian Docherty, stealing a quick kiss, then the doors opened and they entered the glittering ballroom, waving and smiling.

The newlyweds were held up a little as they made their way to the sweetheart table that was waiting for them at the front of the room, but Ian was entirely too blissed out to care. Everyone wanted to congratulate them and the faces of their friends passed in a blur. Ian never let go of Rose’s hand. She didn’t seem to mind. 

At length, they reached their table, and he finally let go of his wife so she could take the baby from Jackie. Eleanor grabbed a handful of Rose’s veil right away, trying to pull it to her mouth and making her family laugh. Ian kissed his daughter’s hair, then kissed Rose, and she put the baby in her high chair. 

Dinner was an extravagant, elegant affair, but absolutely delicious. Ian’s nerves (that he’d denied the existence of all day) had prohibited him from eating a decent lunch, so he was starved and relieved to tuck in. While he ate, he took in the ballroom they were dining in, marveling at the transition. It was simply gorgeous. The whole room virtually sparkled, flowers rested on every flat surface, and draping fabric was backlit with fairy lights. 

“You outdid yourself, sweetheart.”

“Hmm?”

“The decorations. Absolutely stunning.”

She smiled at him. “I didn’t have as much to do with it as you might think. Donna and Mum did most of the work. I just gave input about what I liked and what I didn’t. But do _you_ like it?”

“I love it,” he assured her, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. “It’s almost beautiful enough to be worthy of you.”

Rose giggled and he smiled at her, so proud he thought he may burst. 

A light dinging sound caught his notice and he turned to see Pete standing at his seat, tapping the side of his glass to get everyone’s attention. “If I could have your attention please…” 

The crowd quieted down and Ian took Rose’s hand, winking before he looked over at Pete. 

“First, let me thank you all for coming tonight. I’m wearing a couple of hats here at this wedding ...Rose is my daughter, of course, but Ian is my best mate and has been for almost three decades. To my daughter, I say: I love you, pumpkin, and it thrills my heart to see you this happy. To my best mate, I say: I’m thrilled for you, Ian. You deserve this happiness. But to my new son-in-law I say: If you hurt my little girl, I’ll hunt you down like a rabid dog.” He gave his trademark smile and raised his glass. “You can trust me on this.”

Everyone laughed, including Ian and Rose, and Pete waited until the room was quiet again. “Every parent wants what’s best for their child, and I’m no different. When I first noticed a romance blooming between Ian and Rose - or, rather, when I noticed Ian making eyes at my little girl and her not exactly turning him away…” the crowd tittered again, “...I wasn’t thrilled with the prospect. They seemed so different to me, and he was so much older. But in nearly thirty years, I’d never seen Ian as tender or as gentle as he was with Rose. I’d never seen him so protective or caring. And I’d never seen my daughter respond to anyone the way she responded to him. Watching these two fall in love was a beautiful thing to behold, and seeing them together brings me nothing but joy. There are those who didn’t understand - and likely those who still don’t. But as someone privileged enough to be on the inside, you can take my word for it: Ian and Rose were made for each other, and I’m honored to welcome my best friend into my family. Congratulations, you two.”

The whole room burst into applause and Ian got up to step over and hug his best mate. “Thank you, Pete.”

Pete thumped him on the back, then pulled back and smirked. “Call me ‘Dad’.”

Ian threw his head back and laughed. “Stuff it, Ringo.”

The two men laughed and Ian stepped aside so Rose could hug her father. Once Pete let Rose go, Ian helped her back into her seat, then took his seat beside her, lacing their fingers together. The room quieted again, and Ian noticed Fergus standing up, champagne flute in hand, waiting to speak. He couldn’t help but feel a flicker of nervousness about just what his cousin was about to say. 

Fergus raised his glass. “For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Graham Fitzgerald. I’m Ian’s younger and more handsome cousin,” he paused for laughter, “but we’re closer than that. He came to live with us when we were eight years old - and yes, he was ugly as homemade sin then, too." He paused for laughter again, and Ian and Rose shared a grin. “You see, I always hero-worshipped Ian. There was just something about him, some air of coolness I could never emulate, no matter how hard I tried. He was always the cleverest boy in the room, always had the best ideas, and could do the best tricks on his bicycle.” The room laughed again, and Rose squeezed his hand. “The day his parents died and he came to live with us was undoubtedly one of the worst days of my cousin’s life. But, as selfish as it is for me to admit, it was one of the happiest days of mine. From that day all those years ago, we were brothers. We were best friends. And I love this big dumb git more than just about anyone on earth.”

Ian did his best to be covert when he brushed away a tear, and Rose squeezed his hand again. 

“When Ian brought Rose home to meet us several months ago, I knew right away she was it. This girl was the one for my cousin. She was kind, funny, beautiful, sweet, and from the moment I laid eyes on them together, I knew he’d found The One. Never, in all our lives, had I ever seen Ian glow quite like that when he looked at a girl. And it was just as clear that Rose was madly in love with him, too. Seeing the two of them together - it’s enough to give hope to an old cynic like me.”

Rose sniffled beside Ian, and he brought her hand up to kiss the back of it.

“Other than my mam, no one in the world has known Ian as long as I have or knows him as well. And other than my mam and new sister-in-law, Rose, no one loves him as much. All these years, he’s still my hero.”

From her place in her high chair beside Auntie, Eleanor let out a loud string of babbled language. Fergus grinned. “And my wee niece, Ellie, would like you to know that she loves her da, too, of course.”

The room laughed and Ian took advantage of the moment to wipe his eyes again. Rose looked over at him and beamed proudly. 

Fergus raised his glass. “Ian, Rose… I love you both and I wish the two of you the longest, happiest life together that anyone has ever known. Congratulations.”

The room burst into applause and Ian clambered to his feet, reaching for Fergus. The two men embraced tightly, and Fergus squeezed him a little. “I’m proud of you, bampot,” he said, just loud enough to be heard over the din of applause, and Ian felt a couple more tears fall. He wasn’t able to speak, he just nodded, and the two men stood there for a long while, neither saying anything. Nothing needed to be said. At length, they released their embrace and Fergus slapped his cheek lightly. Then he turned from Ian to Rose, throwing his arms up and out, bending down to scoop her up into a huge hug. Ian stood by and watched them interact, his heart full to bursting. When Fergus finally let Rose go she stepped over beside him again and he took her hand while his brother had a seat. 

Ian looked down at Rose, beaming, and she smiled back up at him. He waited for the noise to die down, then spoke. 

“On behalf of my wife and myself, I want to thank you for coming to share this evening with us. Every one of you honors us with your presence, and we’re grateful to have you in our lives.”

There was a smattering of applause, and Ian looked down at Rose for a second before he turned back to the crowd. 

“It was an evening quite a lot like this when I met Rose, and from the moment I laid eyes on her, I was bewitched. She held my heart in her hands from the first time I spoke to her, and she’s had it ever since. Our road to today has been… different from most - most couples don’t get engaged on the day their daughter is born - but I wouldn’t change a moment of my time with her for anything. That long, strange journey led us here, and I couldn’t be happier.”

The room clapped again, and he took a second to gather his thoughts. 

“We’ve been very lucky to be surrounded by the family and friends we have. Everyone in our lives has been so supportive of us, and we’re grateful. But there are certain people who need to be acknowledged, and I hope you’ll permit me a few minutes to do so.” There was a murmur of assent, and Ian went on. “First of all, to our parents - Pete and Jackie Tyler and Grace Fitzgerald. We love you so much and thank you for your loving support of our relationship. Auntie, you have been my rock for as long as I can remember. I love you and am proud for you to call me your son.” Auntie sniffled when she smiled, then blew him a kiss. “Pete and Jackie - thank you for raising the most incredible woman I’ve ever known, and then letting me marry her. I swear to do my best to take care of her, always.” More applause. Ian waited it out, then spoke again. “To my bampot cousin, Ferg - _Graham_ \- you’ve been the best friend and brother a man could ever hope to have, and I love you, ye bawbag.” The room burst into laughter. “To Mickey - Rose loves you, and that’s good enough for me. Thank you for always being there for my wife. To Clara Oswald and Bill Potts - thank you for encouraging this relationship - and for not scaring Rose away by telling her all about me.” The crowd laughed a little again. Rose squeezed his hand and whispered a name. He nodded in response. “And my wife tells me that this wedding may not have happened were it not for the support and help of Ms. Petronella Osgood, so my deepest thanks to her.” He nodded his head in Osgood’s direction, noting that she was flushing from the praise, and also noting that Fergus was clapping harder than anyone in the room. He didn’t have time to dwell on it, though. “And again, to everyone here - thank you. We love you. We hope you’ll all join us again at our tenth anniversary party, then our twentieth, then our thirtieth, then our fortieth.”

A huge round of applause broke out and Ian bent down to kiss Rose again.


	110. Chapter 110

25 November 2012 (cont.)

After dinner was finished and the cake was cut, the wedding party and guests gradually made their way over to the other ballroom for dancing. They’d hired a band to play so everyone could dance, and Rose was very much looking forward to dancing with her husband for the first time. 

Luckily, she didn’t have to wait long. Once everyone was assembled in the ballroom, the band announced that Dr. and Mrs. Docherty would be sharing their first dance. Ian took Rose’s hand and led her out to the sheltered, heated terrace just as the band started to play. They’d taken a couple of lessons to prepare them for this moment, but all that instruction flew out of the window once he pulled her into his arms, holding her close. Rose sighed happily and looked up at her husband as they started to sway to the music. 

“We’ve come a long way in fourteen months, sweetheart.”

“We have,” she agreed. 

“I’ll never forget the way you looked that night, standing just over there, all alone. I knew right away that I wanted to take care of you, protect you. You were sad and it bothered me. I remember thinking you should be happy all the time.”

She grinned up at him. “You make me happy all the time.”

Ian scoffed. “Not _all_ the time.”

“Yes, _all_ the time.” He started to argue but she cut him off. “Is that all you remember?”

“Of course not. I remember thinking you were the most gorgeous woman I had ever set eyes on, and desperately wanting to get you in my arms.”

Rose giggled. “Mission accomplished.”

He grinned down at her. “Mission accomplished.”

On the other side of the windows, in the ballroom, couples were starting to dance. Rose barely noticed: she only had eyes for Ian. 

_Her husband_.

“Speaking of getting me in your arms…”

“Yes?”

“I can’t wait to get you home. I’ve a surprise for you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You do?”

Rose bit her lip, trying not to giggle. “Actually, I should probably just tell you about it, so you’re more prepared.”

“Well, _that’s_ not half intriguing. Go on, then. What else could you possibly give me on the day you marry me?”

“It’s more a _lack_ of something… Specifically, a complete lack of knickers.”

His other eyebrow joined the first near his hairline. “A complete lack, you say?”

“Yep. I figured fair is fair, right? You’re not wearing smalls underneath your kilt, why should I wear knickers?”

“So you’re telling me you’re naked underneath this dress?” Ian’s eyes were absolutely blazing, and she shivered a little from the heat in his gaze. 

“Not entirely, no. I’m wearing stockings, of course, and the traditional garter. And my bra. Although my bra is more of a bustier…”

Ian’s hands tightened on her and he pulled her even closer. She could feel him hardening, even through her dress. 

“You’re playing with fire, Mrs. Docherty,” he warned in a gravelly voice, making her shiver again. “If you keep teasing me, I may have to drag you off to a secluded corner and shag you rotten, right in the middle of our wedding reception.”

She batted her eyes up at him guilelessly. “Promise?”

Ian growled and caught her mouth. She didn’t hesitate before she parted her lips to accept his tongue, meeting it with the slide of her own. Her arms were looped lazily around his neck and they stilled their swaying, completely engrossed in each other and the kiss they were sharing. 

At length, the kiss gentled, and they broke apart, still looking at each other with stars in their eyes. 

“You’re terrible,” he accused with a teasing smirk.

Rose giggled. “You married me.”

“Too fucking right, I did.”

The song ended and there was a smattering of applause from inside the ballroom. The band started up with another tune and Rose sighed, turning back to Ian.

“I guess that’s our cue, isn’t it? We only get the one dance.”

“We can have all the dances you like,” he assured her. 

“But we have to do the scheduled dances. With our families.”

“So we’ll do them, and then you’ll come right back to me, Mrs. Docherty.”

Rose sighed happily. “Say it again.”

He cupped her chin, tilting her face up to his. “Mrs. Docherty. That’s your name now, Rose. For now and forever.”

“For now and forever,” she echoed. “I like that.”

Ian kissed her again, softer this time, less intense. “I don’t want to let you go,” he murmured against her lips.

“Don’t worry, handsome. I’m staying with you. And when we have to be parted, I’ll come running back as soon as I can.”

With one more parting kiss, the newlyweds made their way back into the ballroom, greeted by cheers of the people who saw them enter. Ian kept her hand firmly in his, ignoring the requests of their family to share each other and amusing Rose greatly. For half an hour, Ian deftly steered Rose away from Pete, who was seeking to claim his father/daughter dance. Finally, Pete cornered them.

“Alright, Docherty. Hands off my daughter. It’s my turn.”

“Fuck off.”

Rose giggled, still wrapped in her husband’s arms, enjoying the banter.

Pete sighed. “Are you _seriously_ not going to allow anyone else to dance with the bride tonight?” he complained.

“The vow was ‘to have and to hold’, Ringo.”

“Actually,” Rose broke in, her tongue between her teeth, “we didn’t _technically_ vow ‘to have and to hold’. Ours were different.”

“Amounts to the same fucking thing,” Ian grumped good-naturedly.

“It’s my turn,” Pete asserted. “Go dance with your Auntie.”

At that moment, Fergus appeared at Ian’s side with Eleanor in tow. Ian took the baby from him automatically when she reached for him. As if it had been rehearsed, Pete scooped Rose up and away from Ian, leaving her husband dumbstruck and holding the baby. Rose couldn’t help but laugh. 

“That’s fucking cheating, that is!” Ian complained. 

“You can spare me for five minutes,” she teased him. “Go dance with Auntie.”

Ian sighed elaborately. “Alright. Five minutes. I’m watching the clock.” He held up his new watch for emphasis.

As Pete spun Rose away, she heard Fergus declare, “And you can just keep watching, too. After Pete dances with her, I want my turn.”

She laughed merrily, then turned her attention to her father. 

“Thank you for this, Dad,” she told him, smiling brightly. 

“Is it everything you dreamed of?”

Rose nodded. “And more.”

Pete kissed her on the forehead. “Good. You just make sure that grumpy arsehole treats you like the angel you are, love.”

“I can’t imagine he would ever treat me any other way.”

The two danced for the rest of the song, and Rose was touched to see that Ian had indeed handed Eleanor off to Jackie and brought Auntie out onto the dance floor, twirling her around. Auntie looked happier than Rose had ever seen her, and she hoped the photographer got lots of pictures. 

When the song ended, Rose automatically looked around for Ian, but Fergus materialized beside her and Pete, taking her hand and whirling her back out onto the floor. Rose couldn’t help but snicker at the scowl on Ian’s face when he saw she’d been snatched away from him again. She winked at him, mouthing ‘be back soon’, and he nodded, going to dance with Jackie. 

“You look beautiful, Birdie,” Fergus told her. “Truly, the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen. Ian is a lucky man.”

Rose flushed a little under the praise. “Thank you, Fergus.”

“So! Tell me about your friend Petronella.”

Rose laughed at the sudden change in trajectory. Fergus didn’t laugh, and she tilted her head to the side a little. “Osgood?”

“Yes.”

“Well, what do you want to know?”

“Just… tell me about her.”

“She’s wonderful. My best girl friend, by far. We’ve known each other a little less than a year, she was my boss at the community center.”

“Does she have a bloke?”

Rose smirked. “Why, Fergus Fitzgerald, are you interested?”

Fergus didn’t blink. “Yes.”

She blinked, surprised. “You are?”

“Very. Does she? Have a bloke, that is.”

Rose was a little nonplussed, but shook her head. “No, she hasn’t had a bloke in a long time, as far as I know.”

“What’s she like?”

“You sat next to her at dinner, didn’t the two of you talk?”

“She seemed shy. I couldn’t get much out of her.”

“She’s lovely,” Rose assured him. “Very intelligent, very kind. You’ll love her.”

“Why is she still single?”

Rose weighed her next words carefully. “Are you serious about pursuing her? Because if you’re not seriously interested, if you’re just going to cut and run when you see her in her plain clothes, I don’t want you anywhere near her.”

He looked at her, confused, and Rose went on, determined. “She tends to dress so as not to draw attention to herself. Usually she’s in khaki trousers and glasses, with her hair in a ponytail. She rarely wears any makeup to speak of. I’ve only ever seen her looking like this twice before. Both were special occasions. She’s told me before that men pay attention to her when she’s dressed up, then she’s invisible again when she dresses in her normal clothes. That has to have hurt her, and I don’t want to see her hurt. So if you don’t think you could get past a frumpy outfit --”

“Honestly, Birdie, that hurts my feelings a wee bit. Do you think me so shallow?”

“No, I think you’re an amazing bloke and I’d be thrilled to see you two date. But I don’t want to see her hurt.”

Fergus looked over at the woman in question. “I’m sure she’s still stunning, no matter _what_ she wears.”

“I think so,” Rose agreed absently. 

“I’ve no intention of hurting her. But I _do_ want to dance with her.”

The wheels spun in Rose’s mind. “I think I might be able to arrange that,” she said, smiling a little.

Fergus looked incredibly excited and hopeful, and it made Rose want to match the two of them even more. “Yeah?”

“Absolutely. Just give me a little time to work my magic.”

“Shall I try to chat her up between now and then?”

“Couldn’t hurt.”

Rose offered her new brother-in-law some pointers, suggesting topics of conversation that may help break the ice. Fergus seemed so enthusiastic, so excited to make Osgood’s acquaintance, that she found herself crossing her fingers, hoping her friend would be receptive.

~*~O~*~

Although she hadn’t left the room or his sight, Ian felt instant relief the second Rose was back by his side. The dancing went on while they made small talk with guests and accepted congratulations. Fergus had assigned himself the role of official baby-wrangler, and he had to admit that his cousin was doing a wonderful job of keeping Eleanor busy so he and Rose could socialize. Even so, Ian kept a close eye on his cousin and daughter, watching so he knew where they were at all times.

He had just pulled Rose back onto the dance floor and was dancing with her, their hands joined between their chests, when he spotted it. Across the room, with Eleanor on his lap, Fergus was giving the Knickerburner to someone Ian didn’t see. He swore under his breath. 

“What’s wrong?” Rose asked. 

“My stupid fucking cousin is trying to pull someone.”

“I know.”

He drew back in surprise. “You know?”

“Yep. I’ve agreed to help.”

He narrowed his eyes at her a bit. “Agreed to help what?”

“Agreed to help him try to get the girl. As a matter of fact, they should be announcing a ‘dinner date dance’ very soon.”

“What the hell is a ‘dinner date dance’?”

“An excuse to get Fergus and Osgood on the dance floor together.”

Ian couldn’t help it, he gaped at her. “ _Fergus and Osgood?_ ”

“Shh!” Rose shushed him. 

“No. He can’t possibly - no. Fucking no.”

“And why not?” she demanded in a challenging huff.

“Because…” Ian’s voice trailed off as he struggled to think of a reason. 

“Be fair, Ian. He really seems to like her.”

“He hardly fucking knows her!”

“All the more reason to leave them alone, so he can _get_ to know her, don’t you think? What if that had been you trying to get to know me and Fergus kept interrupting?” He scowled at the thought, but Rose giggled. “Buck up, handsome. Surely there are plenty of other things on your mind besides your brother meeting a girl.”

Ian looked down into Rose’s eyes, and suddenly every thought was driven from his head. “The only thing on my mind is my bride.”

She beamed up at him and he couldn’t stop himself from bending to kiss her sweet lips. 

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen,” the lead singer of the band said into the microphone when the song ended. “We’ve got one more song for you, and then we’re going to take a break for a little bit. So grab your best girl and head on out to the dance floor!”

The band went into another song, a faster number, and Ian and Rose both turned their heads when they heard laughing from around them. Fergus had waltzed out onto the dance floor holding Eleanor and was ‘dancing’ with her, spinning and dipping. The baby, for her part, was laughing fit to burst.

Ian rolled his eyes. “Fergus…”

“What?” he defended himself. “The man said I should dance with my best girl… and this is Uncle Graham’s best girl. Aren’t you, Ellie?”

He bent down to kiss her neck with loud, smacking kisses, and Eleanor squealed. Ian just laughed and Fergus danced away with the baby. 

When the song ended, Ian took Rose’s hand, unsure where he was leading her, but the sound of feedback over the microphone followed by a couple of taps made him pause. He turned, curious, to see Pete on the stage.

“What the fuck is your father doing?” Ian wondered aloud to Rose.

She didn’t answer and he looked down at her. Her eyes were twinkling and her tongue was between her teeth.

“Rose Ty- Docherty, what have you done?”

“I didn’t do anything!” she protested, but she didn’t get to finish. 

“If I could have your attention for a moment,” Pete said from the stage, and the room went quiet. “Most of you know me, but not many of you know that I used to play drums in a band many years ago. It was one of the most fun times in my life. Little did I know, however, that the lead singer and guitar player of that band would one day, twenty-five years in the future, become my son-in-law.”

Ian’s hands went clammy. “Oh, shit,” he breathed.

“Colin? David? Would you come up here?”

Ian was shocked to see his old bandmates - whom he hadn’t recognized - materialize from the crowd and get on stage. 

"The boys and I have been rehearsing for the last few months, working up a short set just for tonight. Somehow we’ve managed to keep it a secret from Ian, as you can probably tell from the shocked look on his face right now. But Ian... Ian's always been a better musician than any of us, so we're pretty sure he'll be able to keep up." 

Fergus stepped over to the stage with a guitar that Ian recognized as his own and handed it up to Pete. Ian knew that he should be doing something, but he was too in shock. 

“Ian, if you’d care to join us, we’ve put the band back together and we’d like you to play.”

People around him started cheering, and it cleared Ian’s head just a bit. He looked down at Rose to see she was fairly bouncing with excitement.

“You knew?”

She bit her lip and nodded. “Dad asked me months ago. I told him I thought it was brilliant.”

The crowd started to chant his name and clap, and Ian looked around at them. He could hear Rose giggling, and finally shook his head. He bent down to kiss her quickly. “I’ll get you back for this,” he promised with a wink, then swatted her backside, making her yelp and giggle some more. 

Within seconds, he was on the stage, shaking Colin’s hand, accepting a hug from David, then taking his guitar from Pete. “I can’t believe you fucking did this,” he said as he looped the guitar strap over his head. 

“Believe it.” Pete grinned, then started back towards the drum kit. “Set list is on the monitor,” he threw over his shoulder. 

Ian looked down at the monitor while he plugged his guitar in, mentally going over the songs on the set list in front of him. They were all party staples, songs he was fairly familiar with - at least familiar enough to be able to muddle through. He turned the knobs on his guitar, strummed a chord or two to test the sound, then stepped up to the mic. “Well. This was unexpected. I haven’t been on stage to play music in more than two decades… I’m glad they’re not making me wear the kit from those days.” The crowd laughed and he smirked. “My wife has only ever been able to see me play in old grainy tapes my cousin saved. Apparently, she wanted to see me play bad enough to help orchestrate this little gig. So sweetheart, this is for you. I’ll do my best not to let you down.”

Rose blew him a kiss and he winked. 

Ian played the intro riff to “What I Like About You” and they launched into the song. The crowd started dancing, and Ian felt a huge wave of nostalgia. It felt very much like when he’d play clubs thirty years ago - except this time, his wife was dancing with Eleanor, pointing him out to their daughter, and she looked simply radiant. He glanced down at the set list to see if there were any songs that would give him a chance to show off a bit for her. 

The first song ended and they launched straight into the second one, a rocking cover of “You Really Got Me”. Ian was amused to see his colleagues dancing, but figured they were likely equally amused to see him playing rock-n-roll, so that was fair. When the time came, he threw himself into the guitar solo, catching Rose’s eye while he played and winking. She bit her lip and flushed. 

They did two more songs. Pete got a chance to shine a bit during “Bang a Gong”, then he and Ian traded solos during “My Sharona”. It felt so incredibly good to be playing with a band again, and he found himself hamming it up, just as he had in the old days. Really, it was too easy to slide back into his old persona on stage, and he was having a blast. 

Finally, they came to the last of the five-song set, a slow ballad. As much fun as he’d been having, he was ready to get back to his wife, but he sang his heart out to her while he played that last song, telling her how wonderful she was tonight - and every night. 

The four band members joined Ian at the front of the stage when they finished, slinging their arms around each other and taking a bow to applause. He hugged and shook hands again, promising to catch up with the other band members, then jumped off the stage and made a beeline to Rose. She threw her arms around him when he got there, kissing him soundly. He smirked when they pulled away. 

“So you liked it?”

“That was the single most dead sexy thing I’ve ever seen in my life, Ian Docherty. You’re terribly lucky.”

“Don’t I know it.”

She giggled. “No, I mean, I thought about throwing my knickers at you while you were on stage. You’re lucky I didn’t.”

“Well, what stopped you?”

“Told you: Not wearing any.”

His eyes widened. “You were serious about that?”

It was her turn to smirk. “We’re about to do the garter toss. Why don’t you investigate for yourself?”

“Bloody hell,” he rumbled, right before he kissed her hard. The crowd around them cheered some more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The set list:  
> [What I Like About You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rqnw5IfbZOU)  
> [You Really Got Me*](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9X6e7uctAww)  
> [Bang A Gong*](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O2vHbXI2p4k)  
> [My Sharona](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F2dicpOe4HE)  
> [Wonderful Tonight](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fxAiUq8yn34)
> 
> *Yes, we're aware these are covers, but these are the versions we like better. 
> 
> [Ian and Rose's first dance.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dQw4w9WgXcQ)


	111. Chapter 111

25 November 2012 (cont.)

The door swung open and Ian stepped over the threshold, his wife in his arms. He used his foot to kick the door closed behind him but didn’t set her down, just pulled her into a kiss. When they broke, he murmured against her lips. 

“Welcome home, Mrs. Docherty.”

Rose giggled and slid her fingers through his hair at the back of his head, pulling him close to her again. Her lips pressed against his in a slow kiss, and he shivered a little when her nails scraped along his scalp. 

“Do you have any idea the things I’m going to do to you?” he promised, his voice low and sexual. 

She smirked. “I just hope it doesn’t interfere with the list of things I’m going to do to _you_.”

Ian grinned - a wolfish, hungry thing. “Minx.”

“We won’t get to do anything, though, if you don’t let me down.”

“Don’t want to,” he argued. “I’m happy to hold you forever.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Did I fail to mention my surprise for you?”

He let her down then, but held her loosely in the circle of his arms. “You might have mentioned it a time or two.”

Rose ran a finger down the buttons of his sark. “And I happen to know that you’re not wearing anything under that kilt, either.”

“I’m not,” he agreed. 

She unbuttoned the front of his jacket. “So maybe we should do something with that.”

His hands went to her waist, flexing and squeezing, grasping for control. This was his wife and it was their wedding night. He couldn’t just toss up her skirt and fuck her right here in the foyer. 

...Or could he?

“Tell me what you have in mind,” he murmured against the skin of her neck, trailing kisses there. “How do you want this night to go?”

“I want to make love to my husband in as many ways as we can think of until we pass out,” she told him matter of factly, and he chuckled darkly. 

“I think that can be arranged.” He planted more kisses on her bare shoulder, breathing her in, his hands sliding up and down her sides, his thumb tracing the lace-clad swell of her breasts. “You smell and taste divine, Rose.”

He could almost _hear_ her tongue touch her teeth. “Yeah?”

“Mmhm.” He started walking her backwards, towards the wall, an idea forming. “I think I want to smell and taste more of you,” he said, nipping her collarbone.

She whimpered a little. “What do you suggest?”

Her back hit the wall and he grinned to himself. “This,” he said simply, then dropped to his knees in front of her. 

Rose barely managed to get out a confused-sounding ‘What?’ before he was digging under her skirts, throwing yards and yards of white fabric over his head, searching for her. He could hear her giggling above him, but that didn’t slow him down. She wouldn’t be giggling long. 

“Can I help you with that?” she asked, sounding amused. 

Ian debated for just a moment. “Yeah, hold your skirt up,” he told her, pushing it up towards her waist. 

Rose took big armfuls of her skirt, pulling it up and out of his way, and after a minute, he found what he was looking for. She wore pale, silk stockings that encased her legs all the way down to her white high heels, and he couldn’t help but run his hands down the sheer material. There were lace tops on her creamy thighs, and the stockings were held up by a garter belt. As promised, she wore no knickers and his mouth fairly watered. 

“See something you like?” she teased.

He didn’t answer. Instead he bent to her, pressing kisses against her soft skin, running a finger up the top of her leg under the strap of the garter. Slowly he inched both his mouth and his fingers closer to where her legs met until he was able to lay a soft kiss on the thin strip of hair that covered her while his finger traced her slit, picking up moisture. He continued to tease her for a minute, then sat back on his heels to get a look at her. She was biting her lip, clutching the front of her dress for dear life, looking down at him with needy eyes. He did his best to commit this moment and the way she looked to memory so he could treasure it always. 

“This is very naughty, Mrs. Docherty,” he growled, still tracing the line of her lips. “I don’t think I was quite prepared for how sexy this is.”

She just made a little hum in answer and he smirked, then parted her lips with his finger. 

“My word, sweetheart, you’re wetter than the loch after a rain,” he marveled. “This all for me?”

“Yes,” she squeaked, and spread her legs a little, opening herself up to him. The scent of her arousal wafted towards him and he fisted the hand not currently circling her clit.

“Whatever should I do with you?” he pondered aloud.

“Do _something_ for God’s sake before I - _oh!_ ”

The rest of her sentence was swallowed up in a breathy cry when he simultaneously drove two fingers up into her clenching heat and covered her with his mouth, devouring her. He shivered when her flavor burst across his tongue and decided fucking her in the foyer wasn’t a bad idea, after all. His tongue sought out her clit unerringly and started a rapid assault, circling and flicking it in the way he knew she loved. Her hand dropped to his head and she fisted his hair. The edge of pain was perfect to spur him on. 

He was relentless, bringing her to the edge then moving his tongue away to lap at the juices around his pumping fingers. When she’d curse and beg him for more, he’d go right back to her clit, licking, sucking, and flicking until she was on the brink again. 

“Ian, please… please, I need to come. I can’t…”

He pulled off to answer. “You can’t what?”

“I can’t… it’s too good… please, fucking _please_ , let me come…”

“Your wish is my command, sweetheart.”

At once he covered her cleft again, determined not to let up until she was screaming for him. The way she was rocking her hips forward and pressing his face into her wetness, pleading with him brokenly, told him that she’d be coming soon if he kept up what he was doing. His cock felt like it was about to explode and he was desperate to bury himself inside her soon; he _needed_ to fuck her, but first he needed to feel her come apart. He made his tongue into a point and twirled it around her engorged clit, reveling in the sound of her pleas, broken and needy and desperate. Finally, when he simply couldn’t take it anymore and _had_ to fuck her or face certain death by implosion, he withdrew his tongue and brought her clit between his lips. Just a couple gentle sucks and she was there. 

Her cries electrified him and he clung to her, fighting to keep licking and pumping his fingers, trying not to be dislodged by her wild bucking. She screamed his name - properly screamed - and he had mercy on her. She relaxed in bliss, sagging against the wall, and he pressed one more light kiss to her clit, triggering an aftershock. He would have chuckled, satisfied, but he could hardly think. He needed her. Now. 

As soon as he was sure she was stable he got to his feet, his hands working on getting his kilt out of the way while his mouth plundered hers. Within seconds, he was slamming home, his cock buried as deep in her as he could get it. The sensation was nearly overwhelming. His hips were still and his mouth hung open against hers while he panted for air, trying to gain some small measure of control over himself. When he felt he could go on, when he felt he’d die if he _didn’t_ go on, he pulled himself out and plunged back in. Rose groaned and he echoed the sentiment, reaching down to hook her leg and pull it over his hip, tilting her towards him slightly and deepening his thrusts. She keened, bringing both hands up to his head and clutching him tight, kissing him wildly. Ian sped up, gripping her hips for leverage, giving her all he had. 

“Fuck, Rose, you feel so _fucking_ good…” He kissed her neck, her shoulder, all the bare skin he could that was close.

“You’re going to make me come again,” she whimpered, grasping him even tighter. “So close… you feel so good…”

He hiked her leg up a little bit higher and changed the angle of his penetration until he found a spot that made her gasp, then he fucked her as hard and fast as his body would allow. Her cries slowly became wordless and increased in pitch until he was clinging by a thread to sanity, on the very threshold of orgasm. 

“Rose,” he panted raggedly, “please… please come…”

She ignited right in front of him, wailing her release in a sharp sound that was broken by his powerful thrusts. He released, letting himself fly, and came with a shudder and the name of his wife on his lips.

~*~O~*~

Rose stood at the bathroom mirror and had to suppress a giggle at the bite marks and tiny red splotches that stood out against her skin. She strongly debated not even debuting the new negligee she’d purchased for the night, certain that it would only last a few moments before Ian tore it off of her. It was probably better saved for their honeymoon when he would at least be able to appreciate it.

She looked up when the door opened and spotted Ian peeking around it before he stepped in fully. He’d gotten rid of most of his formal clothes and was left in nothing but a half-unbuttoned sark that was untucked from his kilt. She appreciated his disheveled look, especially the little marks _she’d_ left on _his_ neck, and smirked while she watched him in the mirror, still brushing the pins out of her hair. 

“Are you that impatient?” Rose teased. “I’m not ready yet. I bought something special, just for tonight, but you haven’t even let me take off my bustier or stockings yet. And I’m still in my heels!”

“I was just looking in to see if you wanted me to go grab a couple bottles of water,” he offered, his eyes raking her up and down. “It’s going to be a long night.”

She giggled. “Is that a promise?”

“You bet your arse it is,” he told her, clutching the door. The light reflected off the gold in his wedding band and Rose had a moment of thrill, seeing it. Then he spoke and caught her attention again. “Your arse that is currently bare and begging me to touch it.”

Rose cocked one hip, arching her back a little to put her bare bum even more on display. “Is it, now?”

“Christ, Rose,” he swore. 

She very deliberately laid down the hairbrush and reached behind herself to untie the bustier, pulling one of the laces. She was rewarded with a little growl.

“Do you want to wait for me to get the nightie on?” she asked him seductively, oh-so-slowly removing the lingerie she was already wearing. “While you go get water?”

“Fuck the water.”

She finished untying the garment and let it slip, baring her breasts. “I think you mean, ‘fuck the wife’, don’t you, handsome?”

Hands slid around her waist, and she felt Ian’s tall body press against her back at the same time she felt his lips press at the junction of her neck and shoulder. Rose threw the bustier away, she didn’t care where, and laid her head back against him. He was already half hard and pressing against her bum through the wool of his kilt when his long-fingered hands came up to cup her newly-free breasts.

“You make me insane, Rose Docherty. Do you know that?”

“That’s my intention,” she informed him, then sucked in a breath when he bit down on the tendon in her neck. 

“This is our wedding night. It’s supposed to be romantic and slow and gentle.”

“That’s not much like us, though,” Rose countered. “The romantic part, yes, but you and me… well, once we get started…”

He hummed an agreement, massaging her breasts, still planting kisses to her neck. “That’s true. You and I tend to get a little carried away…”

Rose wished he’d get carried away _now_ , but he seemed content with his slow exploration of her. To speed him along, she put her hands on his thighs and squeezed a little. 

“I think I’m going to make you wait for it,” he practically purred. “I think I’m going to tease you and make you come over and over again until you’re practically limp.”

She tilted her head to the side, allowing him better access. “And then you’ll fuck me?”

“And then I’ll fuck you,” he agreed. “As much as you like. But not until you come for me. At least once.”

“I’ve already come twice…”

“A little more won’t hurt you.”

She already felt a bit weak in the knees from his teasing of her nipples and closed her eyes, letting the sensations he was giving her take her away. 

“I love your neck,” he mumbled against her skin. “Smells so good. Smells like you.”

She gasped when he nipped her again. “It does?”

“Mmhm.” Ian switched sides of her neck then and spread the fingers of one hand under Rose’s so that they could lace together. He lowered his body a little and ground his growing erection against her bum. A little gasp escaped her and he chuckled darkly. 

“So you’re seducing me, is that it?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” he murmured, not offended in the least. His hand kneaded her breast with a little more pressure and he continued to roll his hips against her, but his free hand slipped down to the junction of her thighs.

Rose let out a sigh when he lightly, so lightly, traced her slit. She was bound to be soaking, but there was no time for embarrassment. She could never be embarrassed in front of this man.

“It’s working,” she admitted, massaging his hard thighs behind her. 

Ian gave a low chuckle, then ran the tip of his finger up and down. “You alright?” She nodded and he pressed a kiss to her neck. “Good.”

It occurred to her then that she could be doing something herself. She brought one of her hands behind her back slowly to where he was sliding his cock against her bum and cupped him, making him gasp. The fabric of his kilt kept her from wrapping her hand around him the way she wanted to, but Ian didn’t seem to mind. He just rutted slowly into her hand. 

His assault on her senses stepped up. While she stroked him, he parted her lips and dipped a finger inside, running it around her entrance, gathering moisture. 

“C’mere, Mrs. Docherty.”

She turned her head towards the sound of his voice and he captured her mouth at the same moment he slid his finger inside her. He took advantage of her gasp to deepen the kiss and she welcomed him. The heat to this kiss was different; it was still a fire, just like it always was, but this was more like the sizzling flame that runs along a fuse. There was an explosion coming, and Rose couldn’t wait. 

Her arm was still twisted behind her, jacking him, and she contemplated maneuvering her hand to get it under his kilt until she was able to touch him, but her arm was getting sore and she really, really wanted to get to the bed soon. 

Ian seemed to sense it, somehow. He kept up the slow, steady pumping of his finger, but grinned against her mouth. “Impatient, are we?”

“Your seduction is very effective. I want you to take me to bed, Ian Docherty.”

He kissed her again, long and slow, then pulled away, smirking, still pumping her. Her hips rolled in time to his fingers, and Rose felt compelled to let go of his cock and reach up to grab his neck while she arched her back. 

“We’ll get there,” he assured her, going to nibble her ear. “But I told you. I want to make you come again before we do.” With that, he slid another finger inside her, and his thumb sought out her clit. 

Rose keened. “Ian…”

“I want you to come, sweetheart. I want to hold you while you fall apart. Please come for me.”

It only took a minute before he found the rhythm that had her panting. He flicked at her nipple, pinching it a little, then switched breasts. His voice was in her ear while he played her as well as he played his guitar, saying delightfully filthy things. He told her everything he wanted to do to her, every place he wanted to touch her, to taste her, and every word he said drove her higher, even as it made her knees weak. Her hips rolled rhythmically against his hand, seeking friction that he was only too happy to give. 

Wanting to reciprocate, she reached behind herself again to grab his rock-hard cock, but he let go of her breast and pulled her hand gently away. 

“Ah, ah, ah. This is about you, sweetheart.”

“Ian,” she whimpered, and he kissed the tip of her nose. 

“Soon,” he promised. “Soon.”

He stepped up the motion of his hands, thrusting faster and harder, his thumb making quick, firm circles on her clit. Dimly, with the shred of cognition she had left, she admired his dexterity. 

But rational thought was becoming scarce. Rose could feel her insides trembling as she got closer and closer to the peak he was pushing her towards. Her eyes wouldn’t stay open anymore, she’d nearly bit a hole through her lip from trying to hold back her cries, and she was enthusiastically riding Ian’s hand. 

“You’re so wet,” he praised between kisses to her ear and neck. “So hot and so wet. Can’t wait to be inside you, sweetheart. Can’t wait to fuck my gorgeous wife.”

“Please,” she whimpered, not sure what she was asking for.

“Tell me, sweetheart.”

“Want you.”

“You have me. All of me. Come for me and let me show you.”

“Ian, _please_ \--”

He curled his fingers inside her, making a ‘come hither’ gesture against her front wall, and Rose shattered. Ian’s arm shot around her waist to keep her upright while she bucked and cried out for him, incoherent and incandescent. When she was able to think again, she had her head lying back against his shoulder and he was kissing her gently. 

“You’re amazing,” he whispered. 

Rose grinned weakly. “Think I’m the one that’s supposed to be saying that.”

He didn’t answer, just kissed her deeply, but still sweetly. She barely had time (or the muscle coordination) to react before he broke the kiss and bent to scoop her up, carrying her to the bed and laying her down reverently. 

Like a shot, she was on her knees on the bed before him, pushing aside his sark to bare his chest, then laying little kisses there, worshiping him with her hands and mouth. He was beautiful, the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. He was Ian. He was her husband.

Ian gasped when she ringed his nipple with her tongue, and she couldn’t help it. She smiled against his chest, then put her hands on his shoulders and pressed kisses to his neck. He leaned his head to the side to give her room, clutching her hips, and sucking in a breath when she nipped him. 

“Alright,” he announced after a little while. “That’s enough.”

“Seduction over?”

He growled then and pushed gently on her shoulder, tipping her over. She spilled backwards onto the bed in a cloud of giggles, her still-stockinged legs splaying, her heels catching in the duvet. He crawled onto the bed, prompting Rose to put her tongue between her teeth and scoot away from him, toward the head of the bed, teasing. He followed her all the way, and she felt a flutter at his flashing blue eyes and almost predatory smile. 

Finally, she ran out of room and her head and shoulders were against the pillows. Ian pounced then, his body pressing hers into the mattress and his lips crashing into hers before a single giggle could escape. Her hands stroked the bare skin of his back, feeling the muscles flex and relax as he moved. She returned his kiss, their tongues teasing and caressing, mimicking the act their bodies would be performing very soon. 

Just when Rose thought she may pass out if she didn’t get some oxygen, Ian broke the kiss and started trailing his mouth along her jaw, down her neck, over her collarbones and onto her chest. She made a little noise, knowing where he was going, and then he was there. His mouth, his extremely talented mouth, captured her nipple and sucked it, tugging it, scraping it with his teeth. Rose held his head in place, her nails scratching along his scalp, and he made a low, growling sound. 

“You drive me fucking mad, you know that?”

“Yes. You love it.”

“I do.”

He lowered his head, this time to her other breast, and Rose arched her back when she felt him circle her nipple with his tongue, as promised. Before long, she was rolling her hips under him, seeking him, silently begging for him. She decided in short order that being silent wasn’t exactly her style, never had been, and that she’d prefer to take the direct route. 

“Ian,” she gasped. 

Her nipple was between his teeth when he answered. “Yeah?”

“Make love to me,” she commanded softly. “Please, Ian. Please make love to me.”

Ian didn’t say anything, just got to his knees and took off his kilt, tossing it away, his cock bobbing free. That done, he covered Rose, propping himself up above her. She grabbed the back of his head and kissed him, hoping to communicate just what he meant to her, everything she felt for him, how much she wanted him. She felt his length rutting against her and reached between their bodies to finally, _finally_ get her hand around him, pumping him. He sucked in a breath and dropped his head to her shoulder, sounding strangled when he spoke. 

“Sweetheart…” He let her go for a few more strokes, thrusting gently in her hand, before he pulled her hand away. “I want to be inside you, Rose.” He stopped her lips with a kiss, then said, “I want to make love to you.”

Rose felt the head of his cock running up and down her slit, wetting itself at her entrance then circling her clit.

“Are you ready?” he panted, clearly at the very end of his control. 

“Please.”

That was good enough for him, apparently. His cock slid slowly into her and she clutched his shoulders, reeling from the stretch she always felt when he entered her. Ian groaned as he went deeper, his forehead back on her shoulder, until finally he couldn’t go any farther. They both held still then, breathing heavily, adjusting to one another. 

“Jesus… _Fuck_ , sweetheart…” He turned his head and kissed her ear. “You’re so fucking _tight_...perfect…”

“Yeah,” she agreed, mindless of anything but the places he touched her, inside and outside. 

“Are you alright?” His voice was concerned, even though it shook a little. He raised up to look at her, and she was struck anew by how handsome he was. 

To answer him, she rolled her hips under him, sliding him in and out a little, and he hissed through his teeth. 

“Fuck me, Ian,” she asked, her voice husky.

He lowered himself to kiss her while he pulled his cock almost all the way out, then pushed back in. Rose threw her head back in pleasure, reveling in the sensation, baring her neck. He took the invitation, attacking the creamy skin of her throat while he thrust in and out again and again. 

Rose looped one leg around his waist, changing the angle slightly, and he sped up. It felt so good, so _fucking_ good, she was so _full_...

“Ian,” she whimpered, dragging her nails across his back. 

“Rose,” he groaned, then raised his head to kiss her, hard. “My wife. My sweetheart.”

His eyes were nothing more than a rim of blue around bottomless wells of black, but they were somehow full to bursting with love and adoration. She hoped he could see the same in her eyes. She brought the other leg up around his waist, locking her ankles. Ian made a strangled sound and started pounding into her, breaking her keening moan of pleasure into grunts with every impact. The new angle had his pelvic bone rubbing against her clit with every thrust and she felt herself growing more and more taut, like a bowstring. 

“Ian,” she whined. “Ian, please. I’m gonna come, you’re gonna make me come. Please…”

“I’m close, sweetheart, fucking… _Fuck_....so good, so goddamn good…”

He shifted his hips and that was just what Rose needed. She detonated, crying his name and the name of God at the top of her lungs, clinging desperately to his back as he rocked her, aware of nothing but him and her and the sensation of being set on fire.


	112. Chapter 112

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The authors would like to take this moment to just say - wow. You guys are absolutely amazing. We hoped that a few people would like this story, but we never would have dared to hope it would become what it did. Special thanks to Rose--Nebula, who coached and supported and cheered us every step of the way. This story wouldn't exist without you, Gertrude, and we love you.
> 
> We also want to thank every single person who has read the story, commented, left kudos, and been supportive. If we could, we'd hug every one of you and buy you a drink. As it is, we're stuck just hoping you know how deep our gratitude goes. 
> 
> There will be an epilogue (posted on 8/24) and there are talks of a sequel in coming months. But for now, our story ends here. 
> 
> Thank you.

26 November 2012

Ian had intended for them to get to the mansion for brunch a little earlier than they did, but despite the fact they were both dying to get their hands on Eleanor, it had been a long night and they had slept late. Of course, waking up next to his wife had put Ian in the mood again, and he’d made them even later when he attacked her. She didn’t seem to mind in the least.

He’d expected to see some detritus of the night before when they pulled up to the mansion, but from the outside the place looked the same as it always did. Inside, all of the decorations had been taken down except the flowers, which were scattered around the foyer and, Ian assumed, the rest of the house, as well. They paused in the foyer long enough to take their coats off and give them to one of the maids, then headed for the formal dining room, anxious to see Eleanor. 

A cheer greeted them when they entered, and he and Rose both stopped, smiling. They only paused a moment, though, before they spotted Eleanor in Jackie’s arms and made a beeline for her. Eleanor reached for her mummy and Rose took her, nuzzling her close, letting Ian get a kiss from the baby, then excused herself so she could feed her. 

Ian stayed behind to accept hugs and congratulations from everyone present. He was relieved to see that the invitation to this brunch had been limited to family and very close friends - mostly the wedding party. Their parents were there, of course, as were Mickey and Martha, Clara and Bill, Henry and Anna, David Ripley and his wife, and, Ian was amused to note, Fergus, who was sticking rather close to Osgood. She had resumed her usual kit of khaki trousers and ponytail, but that didn’t seem to deter Fergus in the slightest.

Rose returned after a few minutes and Ian immediately reached for the baby, anxious to have her in his arms. It was his wife’s turn to accept hugs and congratulations, which she did with huge smiles, and he followed in her wake. When they got to Auntie, the older woman hugged Rose tightly. 

“I didn’t get a chance to tell you last night, Rose, but I just wanted you to know how thrilled I am that you’ve joined our family. You’ve brought so much joy with you - not only to Ian’s life, but to mine, too. Graham wanted a brother when he was a wee one, but like most women, I secretly harbored the hope I’d one day have a girl. Now I have one, and I’m so glad it’s you. I never dreamed I’d be this happy to give my boy away.”

Rose sniffled hard, wiping at her eyes, then hugged Auntie. “Thank you so much,” she murmured, and Ian felt his eyes well up, too. 

There was a clap on his shoulder and Ian turned around to see David Ripley extending his hand. He took it and shook, accepting congratulations, proud when the other man remarked on how lovely Eleanor was. 

“Say, Ian, I’ve been meaning to plant a bug in your ear… have you considered riding lessons for the little one, here?”

Ian did his best not to snort a laugh when he said no, she was just barely sitting up, they’d not be putting her on a fucking horse anytime soon. 

“I think we’re going to let Eleanor decide her own interests,” Rose said, joining the conversation, “instead of dictating to her.”

“Fair enough,” Ripley agreed amicably. “Just know that if she shows an interest in horses, I’m a phone call away.”

“Will do,” Ian said, then smirked at Rose. 

Jackie caught Rose’s attention and she left him with Eleanor and a kiss, going to see what her mum wanted. As soon as she was safely across the room, Auntie sidled up next to Ian. 

“Who’s that girl there?”

“What girl?” 

“The one talking to Graham.”

Ian was sure he knew who she was talking about, but looked over and found Fergus talking to Osgood. He was obviously chatting her up, using the KnickerBurner liberally, but it wasn’t quite as clear whether or not it was having the desired effect. Osgood seemed to be as reserved as she always did - although she _was_ smiling back at him. Somewhat shyly, but she was smiling.

“That’s Petronella Osgood.”

“I know that, I met her last night,” Auntie said, almost impatiently. “I mean, who is she?”

“She’s Rose’s boss at the community center,” he explained. “They became close while Rose was teaching.”

“Is she a nice girl?” Auntie asked, just as the sound of Osgood’s giggle drifted over to them.

Ian nodded. “She’s very nice. Rose is terribly fond of her.”

Auntie took the baby from his arms. “Your brother seems interested in her.”

He sighed. “I know.”

“Seemed so last night, too. He barely spoke to anyone else, and certainly not any other women.”

“I noticed.”

Auntie gave him a raised eyebrow. “Do you not approve?”

Ian weighed his words carefully. “They seem very different to me, but that may not matter. Rose and I are very different, yet here we are.”

“What does Rose say? Has she noticed?”

“I was going to go over and make Fergus knock it off last night, but she insisted that I leave them alone. Asked me how I would have felt if that was me trying to get to know _her_ and Fergus kept interrupting.”

“Rose is wise,” Auntie nodded. 

“She is,” he agreed absently. “I don’t know what he’s up to, but my wife has forbidden me from getting involved, so I guess it’s up to them.”

“I’m sure it’s just fine. Maybe I’ll get a chance to speak with her later - if your cousin will stop monopolizing her so much.”

He eyed her a little. “You’re okay with this?”

“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” Ian fumbled for an answer, then Auntie put her free hand on his arm. “Son, there were any number of reasons why you and Rose shouldn’t have been together, but here you are, happy as a clam. Don’t you think your brother deserves the same?”

“Of course I do. I just --”

“When do you leave for Fiji?” Auntie cut through his stumbling, apparently entirely done with the topic they’d been discussing. 

“Tonight, but I’m reconsidering.”

She looked at him with wide eyes. “Reconsidering?”

“It’s a twenty-nine hour flight, which means if something were to happen, we wouldn’t be able to get back here for more than a day. I’m just… wondering if maybe we shouldn’t go somewhere in Europe or something, is all.”

“Nothing is going to happen,” Auntie assured him. “Your brother and I are staying here with the Tylers and Eleanor, and she’s going to be positively rotten by the time you come home in ten days. Of course, it appears as if Graham might be busy for a good chunk of that time...”

“That’s something else. Ten days seems like a long time to be away from a baby that young…”

“You worry too much,” she scoffed. “Go to Fiji. Have a wonderful time. Then come home and start your life here.”

Rose rejoined them and slid his arms around her waist. He automatically wrapped his arms around her shoulders, holding her comfortably. He lowered his face to hers to kiss her softly and when he straightened, Auntie had gone. 

“You look upset,” Rose deduced. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m not upset, just wondering if maybe we should change our honeymoon plans a bit.”

She gave him an understanding look. “Too far away for too long?”

“You too, huh?”

Rose nodded. “Yeah. I want to go, I truly do, but I just… can’t we go somewhere else?”

“We can go anywhere you like, sweetheart. The world is your oyster.”

“How about New York, or maybe even Paris? They’re a lot closer…”

Ian grinned down at her. “We could take in some shows on Broadway.”

She grinned up at him. “Or see the Champs-Elysee.” 

“You know,” he pondered, “there’s really no reason why we couldn’t do both. Go to New York for a few days, then stop through to check on the baby before we go on the second leg of our honeymoon, to Paris.”

“I think that’s an astounding idea. What a clever husband I have.”

Just then, Fergus’ loud laugh cut in from across the room. Ian looked over to see him hamming it up for Osgood, and he did his best not to scowl. 

“That seems to be going well,” Rose commented lightly, sounding pleased. 

“It does,” Ian agreed absently, then he felt Rose’s arms tighten around his waist. 

“Hey, you.”

“Yes?” he asked, looking down at her.

“Stop worrying about your cousin. It’s all going to be fine.”

He sighed. “I know I should. I just --”

“If you need a distraction,” she teased, her tongue between her teeth, “we could always find a quiet corner and I’ll get your mind on something else.”

He raised both eyebrows at her, shocked at her brazenness, and she just giggled. "Is that so, Mrs. Docherty?" he teased, playing along. Rose went up on tiptoes, whispering in his ear. He clutched her arm and bit his lip to regain control. “Right,” he said when she was finished. “Me. You. Upstairs. Your old bedroom. Now.”

“We can’t,” she laughed. “Not really. We have guests.”

Ian sighed, pretending to be much more put out than he actually was. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go make rounds, talk to everyone we need to talk to, then hop a zeppelin to New York. Adventure is calling.”

She smiled brilliantly up at him, her arms around his waist. “Let’s go, handsome.”


	113. Epilogue

London. He could tell right away, as soon as the TARDIS doors opened and the air hit his face, that he was in London. Some things never changed, no matter the time period, and London’s distinctive smell was one of them. He stepped out of the TARDIS and looked around, hoping to get an idea just when and where in town he’d landed. 

His first thought after _“Zeppelins in the sky!”_ was _“What year is it?”_ , a question which was answered in short order by a newspaper pulled from a bin. 

The answer was 2020. 22 April. 

Which meant that if this universe was being as kind as appearances would have him believe, Rose Tyler should still be alive. He ran a hand through his nearly all-white hair, mussing it terribly, and wondered how she’d feel about seeing him again. Not only had he aged considerably since he’d last seen her and regenerated twice, this time around he looked old enough to be her father, at least. He was grumpier, much less bubbly, more like his Ninth self. But he still loved her just as much as he had then. That, like London’s aroma, had never changed. 

Pulling out the sonic, he scanned for void particles and took off in the direction it indicated. A few minutes later, he skidded to a halt outside of Hyde Park, thoughts of finding Rose pushed to the side at the realization that somewhere in the vicinity was an untrained Gallifreyan mind. 

His mind a whirl of emotions and thoughts, he did his best to calm down and stepped into the park as casually as he could, following where his sonic led. Eventually he came to a little stand of trees not far from the smaller of the two lakes in the park, and situated himself behind a tree to watch the woman and children he’d been led to as they spread out a picnic. 

Rose was heavily pregnant, clearly at least seven or eight months gone, and still as absolutely lovely as ever. Her hair was longer than he’d ever seen it, falling around her shoulders and down her back in the soft waves he’d always loved, and she seemed to glow. She was also extremely busy, as there were three small children playing around her feet. His protective instinct - always so powerful when it came to Rose - kicked in, and he started to go to her, to keep those children from tripping her up. 

Then he heard his own voice and froze. 

There was a man coming towards Rose carrying a hamper and holding the hand of a slightly older girl. The man was an exact replica of the Doctor, a perfect copy, with only a couple of small differences - namely scruffy facial hair and glasses. It was an even bigger shock when the doppelganger put the hamper down, let go of the little girl’s hand, laid his hand on Rose’s belly, and bent to kiss her. 

Well, he figured, it seemed he’d been wrong. Time Lords _did_ exist in this universe, after all. But why, if the man was a Time Lord, this universe’s version of him, had he not sensed and started to seek out the Doctor? Did he not crave the contact with another telepathic mind? Could that mean --

His question was answered when he sensed the Gallifreyan mind getting closer and closer to him, yet the man beside Rose had not moved. Stunned, the Doctor’s eyes landed on the little girl who had been holding the man’s hand running towards him, a small, ginger boy just behind her, tagging along. The girl’s eyes were locked on his and the Doctor was helpless to do anything. The urge to run from her arose powerfully but he was paralyzed, rooted to the ground. 

It had been eight years or so, give or take, in Rose’s timeline since she’d fallen through the void. This girl, skidding to a stop a few feet away from him, looked to be around that age. And she had an untrained Gallifreyan mind. 

She looked at him with knowing, fearless, grey-blue eyes the exact shade of his and it clicked into place. 

_Oh, Rassilon._

"Hello," he said, feeling terribly awkward.

The little boy, the one that was Not His, looked up at him and said “Da?”

The girl never took her eyes off the Doctor. "He’s not your da, Graham. This is _my_ da."

The Doctor crouched down and pointed at his doppleganger, who was fussing over Rose. "I'm not your da, love. That's your da."

"You know what I mean.” 

He laughed because it was so _Rose_. The young boy apparently lost interest and ran off, but the Doctor hardly noticed. His attention was completely arrested by the little girl with wavy hair and his eyes. 

“You're him, aren't you? You’re the Doctor."

He nodded, his hearts threatening to beat out of his chest. "Yeah. That's me." The Doctor was still gaping, couldn't help himself. "Are you --"

"Human," the little girl said proudly. "Mummy says I'm human this go-round, like my daddy. Next time they say I'll be a Time Lord."

"Time _Lady_ ," he corrected. "You'll be a beautiful little Time Lady."

"So I'll do, then? I've always wondered what you'd think of me."

"How long have you had to wonder? You can't be more than --"

"I'm eight in two weeks," she told him proudly, her little chest puffing out a bit. 

“That’s brilliant,” the Doctor told her, feeling the smile on his face grow. 

"Come see Mummy," she said, taking his hand, and her little hand fit in his just the way Rose's did. 

He resisted, his hearts pounding at the prospect, shaking his head, staying in his crouched position. "No, I don't think your daddy would appreciate that. Besides, you shouldn't talk to strangers...." He hesitated, realizing he didn't know his daughter's name. 

"Eleanor. Eleanor Grace Docherty."

 _Eleanor._ "That's a lovely name."

“But I can talk to you. You’re not a stranger. Not really.”

The Doctor looked up from his daughter over to her parents - Rose and the man who looked just like him. The three small children toddled around and between their parents' legs, chasing each other. He worried for her, but before he could do something stupid, like reveal himself, Rose's husband scooped up one of the children and pretended to eat his neck, earning squeals the Doctor could hear from yards away. 

"Triplets?" he asked idly, not expecting the little girl to answer. 

She snorted in a manner that seemed well beyond her years and reminded him more than a little of Jackie Tyler. "No. One’s my brother, Graham, you saw him. Then there’s my sister Isabel, or Izzy. She’s the blonde one, and the other boy is my cousin. He has dark hair.”

“Your brother and sister are twins?” he asked, hungry for knowledge.

“Nah, they’re ten months apart. Nan calls them Irish twins. Daddy calls them proof that he’s still got it. Nan swatted at him for that one.”

The Doctor remembered all too well what it was like to be swatted by Eleanor’s Nan and grinned a little ruefully. 

“We’re getting another cousin today,” Eleanor went on. “My auntie and uncle are at the hospital now. Another boy. That’s why we have Daniel with us. Mummy is having another girl in June. Jodie.”

“Are you excited?” he asked, not entirely sure what else to say.

“I am,” she confirmed with a nod and a smile. “Graham is fun, but I’d rather play with dolls than trucks.”

Her little mind reached out to him instinctively, unable to control itself, seeking to connect. He held her off for the moment, trying to decide what to do. Connecting with her… he wanted it so much. He hadn’t felt a connection in _so long_ , and his longing to know his daughter made his hearts clench almost painfully. Besides, he reasoned to himself, it could be highly dangerous for another telepathic creature to discover her existence, and he didn’t bother to dwell on all the terrible things that could have happened had Missy been the one to find this little girl and not him. She needed to be protected. But how could he connect with her, then let her go?

“Eleanor,” he started, still a little unsure, “I’d like to tamp down your telepathy for now. It’s to protect you. It’ll make it harder for other people like us to find you. Would that be alright?”

“Sure,” she shrugged. “How do you do it?”

“I just need to touch the side of your head…”

At once, with the complete lack of fear she’d shown him so far, the little girl stepped forward so she was near enough for him to touch her. He hesitated only a minute before he raised his arm.

“If there’s anything you don’t want me to see, just imagine a door and close it. I won't look. Alright?”

“Alright.”

He laid his hand on the side of her head and was bombarded with glimpses of her memories.

_Rose smiling down at her, then bending to kiss her forehead for no reason._

_Eleanor tiptoeing to the door of her parents’ bedroom, peeking inside, then dashing across the room and launching herself onto the bed to wake them up. Her father scooping her up and tickling her until she thinks she’ll explode._

_Rose brushing her hair and putting a bow in it, telling Eleanor just how beautiful she is._

_Jackie and Pete taking her to an ice cream parlor, letting her get extra chocolate syrup and making her promise not to tell her mummy._

_A red haired man - “Uncle Gus” - scooping her up and throwing her into the air over protests from her parents._

_Standing on a stepladder in a large kitchen with an old woman - her grandmother - helping to make dinner._

But the Doctor was most interested in some of the little girl’s warmest memories... 

_Her daddy holding her before she went to sleep each night, making her feel safe and loved._

_Her daddy sitting up all night with her when she had a bad dream about creatures from another universe she should have no knowledge of._

_Her daddy playing tea party with her, and she can tell he wants to grumble but he doesn’t._

_Her daddy dancing with her at a wedding, holding her on his hip and beaming proudly._

Fighting tears, he put her memories away for safekeeping and lowered his hand from her face, tracing her cheek a little because he just couldn’t help it. Then he pulled out the psychic paper and presented it to her.

"Eleanor, there's going to come a day, a long, long time from now, when you need me. Don’t be scared. I won’t forget you, I promise. When that day comes, I want you to hold that paper and think very hard. Can you do that?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

“Give it to your mummy for now. For safekeeping. She’ll know what to do.”

“She always does.”

In the distance, he heard Rose's voice calling for her daughter, followed by his own voice doing the same. 

"I have to go, Eleanor,” he said reluctantly, getting to his feet. “Your mummy and daddy are looking for you. But it was very nice to meet you. I'm quite sure I'll see you again."

“ _Eleanor!_ ”

"Nice to meet you, Doctor."

She turned to run to her parents, but the Doctor called her back for a second. "Eleanor, will you give your father a message for me?"

"Yeah?"

"Tell him the Doctor said thank you. I won’t be bothering him again."

~*~O~*~

Rose looked, but didn’t see anyone where Eleanor was pointing, saying she’d met the Doctor. Yet she didn’t doubt her daughter - the evidence was in her hand. The Doctor’s psychic paper. 

She opened the little wallet with trembling hands and looked down to see his handwriting on the paper. 

_She’s perfect._

~*~O~*~

2064

The Doctor landed the TARDIS rather smoothly, he thought, considering how nervous he was. He checked and rechecked to make sure he had the right time and place, then opened the doors and stepped out, a little trepidatious. 

The Tyler mansion sat before him, and standing in front of the mansion was his daughter. If the TARDIS was correct, she would be about fifty, yet she looked younger than that. He was thrilled to see she still looked like him. 

He didn’t bat an eye when she came running at him full-tilt, enveloping him in a huge hug, sobbing. He just held her as comfortingly as he could, not saying anything, letting her get it out. 

After a very long moment she pulled back, wiping her eyes. He brought out a handkerchief for her nose. 

"You're not my dad, not really. I mean, I know you _are_ , but..."

"I know what you mean."

“I tried to prepare myself, to tell myself that I wouldn’t do this, but…”

“It’s alright.”

"You just look exactly like him, and I've missed him so much."

"It's okay, Eleanor. Truly."

She laughed a little through the remnants of her tears. "You even sound like him."

“I imagine you’ll find other similarities between your father and me as time goes on. It’s alright. Really.”

"You look exactly the same,” she marveled, taking him in, tears drying on her cheeks. “I know you don't age like... like a human would, at least I haven’t, but how long has it been? Since that day at the park?"

"It's been seven minutes and forty-two seconds for me."

Her eyes registered shock. "Is that all?"

"Yes, that’s all. I have a time machine and I just couldn't wait to get to know you."

She laughed a little, somewhat weakly. “Well, here I am.”

The Doctor resisted the urge to shuffle his feet. "Are you leaving anyone behind?"

"My sisters and my brother. They know all about you, of course. They all knew this day would come.”

"Your mum and dad --"

Eleanor shook her head. "Gone. Dad passed six years ago, and Mum died this past winter. Cancer.” The Doctor felt like he’d been kicked in the chest, but he’d known it would likely be this way. Rose truly was just a memory for him now. 

“It happened fast,” Eleanor said, attempting to soothe him. Apparently, he wore his pain on his face. “She wasn’t sick very long, only a few weeks. Her dying wish was that I use the paper to contact you but I… I needed to settle my affairs."

"We can come back, if you want to. You don't have to miss your family."

"I'd like that. For now, I'd like to get to know you."

The Doctor stepped out of the way of the doors, extending his arm in a silent welcome, and Eleanor picked up a single suitcase and a tattered bear in a Scotland National uniform to join him. He stood aside and let her pass, then closed the doors behind them once she was on board. 

As expected, she was looking up at the console room, taking it in. The TARDIS was putting on a bit of a show for her, welcoming her home, flashing her running lights and giving off a soothing, welcoming hum. The Doctor waited for the inevitable, the same thing everyone said, but Eleanor surprised him. He had a feeling it would be far from the last time his daughter did that. 

“It looks different.”

“Pardon?”

“The TARDIS, it looks different. In Mum’s photos, the room was kind of… brown and empty.”

“Ah. Yes,” he said, feeling sheepish again. “I was in a bit of a spartan phase when your mother traveled with me. It was long ago. Do you like it now?”

She nodded, looking around, still taking everything in. “I love it. Hard to believe it’s really real.”

“It is, Eleanor. This is your home now, this TARDIS. For as long as you want it to be.”

She nodded, then turned to him and smiled. “Where to, then? The past? The future? Some distant planet? I’ll let you decide, since I’m such a novice at this.”

“Let’s go to the past,” he decided, striding towards the console with more surety than he felt. “I’m sure there’s a little trouble we could make there.”

“Brilliant,” she responded, beaming, and in that moment, with her face lit up, his daughter looked almost exactly like Rose. The Doctor’s hearts clenched in his chest and he couldn’t stop himself.

"Your mother… Was she -?"

Eleanor looked a little taken aback by the question, then her face softened. “Mum worked for Torchwood, overseeing contacts with alien species - particularly first contacts - and she loved her job. That is, when she had time to work. Dad retired from private practice a bit early and he dragged her out of town on holidays - ‘adventures’, he called them - at least five times a year. She and my dad were the happiest of any people I’ve ever known. But she never forgot you. She loved you, too, and was always grateful to you.”

The Doctor felt tears pricking his eyes and his voice was a bit more gruff when he spoke again. “So she was happy?”

Eleanor smiled serenely. "Blissfully so. She did exactly what you told her to when you sent her away from the Gamestation - she had a fantastic life."


End file.
